


I Want To Be In Love

by Argyle_S



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Coming Out, F/F, F/M, Family, Family Drama, First Time, POV First Person, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-25
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:31:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argyle_S/pseuds/Argyle_S
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane's relationship with Casey has finally made her realize something important about herself, and she's going through the process of coming out. Maura can tell something's up, but can't understand why Jane seems to be talking about it to everyone *except* her. And neither one believes the can have what they both want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Set roughly six months or so after 3.5. This story is Jane/Maura, but it starts with both the of them in relationships with other people, and the second chapter contains some semi-explicit Maura/some guy sex.
> 
> A/N 2: I've gone through and edited this to clean up some typos and such.
> 
> A/N 3: I'd like to thank bekahbabe for providing a belated, but much needed beta for this story.

**Jane**

I stared down at the untouched burger and fries basket in front of me as I slowly turned my beer bottle around with the tips of my fingers. It was easier than looking up and meeting Casey's eyes. I could feel the tension across the table, and for once, I almost felt sorry for the poor SOB's who end up across the interrogation table from me. The accusation in his eyes was nearly unbearable, all the more so because I knew I deserved it. This has been coming for weeks, but now that it's here, neither of us seem capable of admitting it. It's like some horrible game of break up chicken, where we sit here, waiting to see which one of us will crack first.

Inevitably, it was him. I may suck at relationships, but stubborn avoidance was a skill I've honed over three and a half decades as Angela Rizzoli's daughter.

“Jane, I-” he started.

“Don't,” I said, cutting him off as I finally raise my eyes to look at him. It was my fault, and I'd be damned if I let him give me an easy way out. I'd been taking the easy way out for too long, and it was starting to be humiliating. “I need to be the one to say it.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “Then say it.”

I shook my head, letting out a sigh. “This isn't working.”

“Wow. With skills like that, I'm surprised you haven't made Lieutenant yet.” His tone was less sharp than I expected. There was a tinge of bitterness, but there was also a bit of honest humor.

I snorted, smiling at him despite myself. “You always made me laugh.” It was an honest observation, and one that made me sad, because I really did like him, and until we started dating, I really did enjoy his company.

“Just not funny enough?” Casey asked. I was surprised that he sounded more curious than resentful, and I want to hate him for it, because it was a reminder that he was, fundamentally, a good man.

I shook my head. “No, that's not it.”

He raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Throw me a bone, here. What did I do wrong?”

“It's not the injury.” I kicked myself the moment the words were out of my mouth, but I couldn't help but feel guilty about it. I started a relationship with him when I knew how badly damaged his confidence was by the injury, and even though the injury has nothing to do with what was happening, I knew it was going to deal a horrible blow to him when he was already hurting.

He snorted and reached for his beer, taking a long sip. “I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt on that, but I've learned that usually, when people start with 'it's not the injury' what they mean is, 'I don't want to sound like a small minded bigot, but I don't want to be around a cripple in case it's contagious.'”

“That's not fair, Casey.” I said, without any really heat in my voice, because I could see where he was coming from. My gaze fell down to my scars, and I remember how dirty, how absolutely broken, I'd felt. It wasn't fair, but then, I hadn't been very fair to a lot of people after I was hurt, so I can understand where he's coming from.

“I want to believe that, but you got to give me something to work with.”

I looked down at the lukewarm beer, turning the bottle around in my hands again. “I think... God, this is so hard.” I shook my head, and in a very Maura like way, I spoke without stopping to filter my thoughts. “I should have brought Maura. She's better at this than I am.”

“What, breaking up with your boyfriends?”

I laughed, smiling as I looked up at him. “Honestly, she usually just convinces them I'm gay.”

Casey's eyebrows shot up. “That would explain Giovanni.”

I felt a moment of panic at the assumption I could see him making. Whatever he thought of me after that night, there was no way I wanted anyone to think I'd make that serious an error in judgment. “Oh no. No, no, no. I never dated Giovanni. That was entirely Maura's disaster.”

“But he was talking about your and Maura's 'relationship'.”

I couldn't help but laugh at the memory, or the fact that we'd spent two years pretending to be lovers in front of Giovanni. I saw the question on Casey's face in response to my laugh, and I shrugged and told the truth. “I'm better at breaking up with Maura's boyfriends than she is.”

He smiled again, and for a moment, I was struck by how easy it was to be around him when we weren't trying to be a couple.

“No wonder she keeps you around,” he said, and I found myself grinning as the humor in his voice.

“Yeah, well, she needs a cuddle bitch between boyfriends anyway, so I suppose I have my uses.” I meant the remark to be flippant, but I was surprised at how much bitterness I felt when I said it. It was true though. I'd been providing all of the emotional intimacy for Maura for years, without really realizing it, but now that I had, I felt a little resentful of the fact that I didn't get to share the physical intimacy as well. Never mind the fact that, had she asked, I probably would have had a gay panic attack and started hyperventilating. Or done something stupid and completely ruined the best relationship I've ever had.

Casey, though, seemed to completely miss the bitterness, focusing instead on how close I had just revealed I am to Maura. “I'm not sure I'm okay with that.”

I immediately snapped at him. “Not really your place to be okay with it or not anymore.” But after a moment, I realized how harsh the words sounded and gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry. I shouldn't have said that.” I dropped my eyes down to my beer bottle and started picking the label off while I tried to find a way to say what I knew needed to be said.

I saw him shrug out of the corner of my eye, and when I glanced up, I could tell he was trying to pass it off, but the expression on his face looked like I'd just slapped him. “I suppose it's not mean if it's true.”

I laughed, and this time, I could tell he didn't miss the bitterness, and because I was hurting, I couldn't help myself, couldn't stop myself from sharing a little bit of the truth he held in such high regard. “Well that's a load of bullshit. Sometimes the truth is the meanest thing you can tell someone.”

“Is it Dean?” He was guessing, trying to understand, trying to figure out what I couldn't seem to bring myself to tell him. The the very idea made me shudder, and I felt for a moment like I was going to throw up. Unsure how to explain my feelings any other way, I settle for blunt honesty.

“God no. The only thing I want to do with Dean is kick him in the GSW.” I smiled, as a happy thought crossed my mind. “Of course, since the last one he got has had time to heal, I'd have to inflict one first, but I'm kind of okay with that.” Maybe I'm petty, maybe I'm vindictive, but if Tinkerbell flew into my room one night and sprinkled me with Fairy Dust, the thought of shooting Gabriel Dean in the leg, then repeatedly kicking the wound would easily make me happy enough fly to the moon and back.

Casey chuckled. “That's one thing I always liked about you. You were never afraid to tell someone how you felt.”

I looked at him, completely stunned, not able to believe my ears. “God, you don't know me at all, do you?”

For the second time, he looked like I'd slapped him. “What's that supposed to mean?” he asked. There was real hurt in his voice.

I really wanted to just get up and walk away. I wanted to be out of the conversation. But I couldn't bring myself to leave it like that. I liked Casey a lot, and despite some rough patches, he'd been pretty good to me. He deserved better than that. I dropped my eyes down to the now label-less beer bottle in my hands, and like the idiot I am, I said the first thing that came to mind. “It's not you, Casey-”

“Oh, God. The dreaded 'it's not you, it's me' speech. Come on, Jane, save me the cliché.”

My temper flared, and I slammed the beer down, as I looked up at him. I'd been trying to do this without hurting him, but if he was going to lash out like that, I'd go with the cold, hard truth. “Okay, fine. It's you. You're the wrong person. I tried, Casey. I really did. I just... You're not the person I want to be sitting in that seat.”

“So, there's someone else?”

“Yes.” The word was out of my mouth before I even thought about it, and as soon as I realize I'd said it, I tried to take it back. “No. Maybe. God, I don't fucking know. It's all bullshit.” God, I wanted to just curl up in a ball and whimper. I wanted it to stop. I wanted to be curled up with Maura on my couch, both of us wearing footie pajamas as we ate chocolate frosting on graham crackers and got drunk on boxed wine. No, better yet, two buck chuck.

At that moment, I think I would have traded my badge to see Maura in footie pajamas, making a face at the idea of drinking a two dollar bottle of wine.

“Who is he?”

I sighed and took a drink of room temperature beer. “What, you gonna go beat them up?” I asked, because really, what was a gonna say. 'I'm dumping you for a big titted blonde who's straight and wouldn't date me even if she was a lesbian?' I'm sure that would go over like a Led Zeppelin.

“I think I deserve to know.”

“Yeah, because we always get what we deserve,” I held up my hands, showing him my scars, then I gestured towards his crutches, just to emphasize my point. I could see the hurt in his eyes, and I felt sorry for him. He deserved better than the way I'm treating him. I would have liked to offer him a comfortable lie, but I was too exhausted to think of one, so I gave him the only thing I could. The truth. “Doesn't matter anyway. I asked. Got told two separate times they weren't interested. I think that's why I... You, Dean... God, I fucked up, you know. I didn't even realize I was interested until after you and I were together.” I'd always figured if I tried playing the pronoun game, I'd get called on it pretty quick, but Casey wasn't a detective. He missed the clue right in front of him, and ended up focused on entirely the wrong thing.

“You were hitting on this guy while we were together?” There was anger in his voice, but also a lot of hurt, and again, I felt bad for him.

I shook her head. “No. We just... We'd talked about it a couple of times, a long time ago. Once before I got shot, once not too long after, before you and I started Skyping. At the time, it was kind of a relief. Didn't want them to be interested in me, you know. It would complicate things. It's just, the longer you and I were together, the more I realized every time we did something, my first thought was to wish they were there. And when you started talking about going to those classes on how to... you know, with your injury... I just realized I couldn't.” I blushed in embarrassment. I'd never really been comfortable discussing sex, and those conversations with Casey had been hard for me. They'd only gotten harder when I realized that I just didn't want to be with Casey that way.

He shook his head, and for once, asked the right question. “I don't get it, Jane. If he's not interested, than why...?”

I was relieved to have a question I could actually answer fully and honestly. “You really want to go through life, get married, have kids, grow old and retire with someone knowing you're their second choice?”

He looked down at the table, shaking his head. “No.”

“Yeah. We'd end up like my Ma and Pop. You'd leave me for some chippy that used to bang our youngest son, and I'd end up running the snack counter at headquarters. Except, when you asked me for an annulment, I'd shoot you in the balls and get Maura to help me hide the body.”

He winced at the description, but then smiled. “You know, that's a pretty convincing argument.”

I smiled at him. “Hey, I said Maura was better at breaking up with my boyfriends, not that I couldn't do it.”

Both of us laughed at the joke, but the humor was short lived. After a moment, he looked down at his own uneaten food. “I guess I'm just confused.”

A small, bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it. “That makes two of us.” I looked away from him, not really wanting to see what crossed his face.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

I could here the anger in his voice. More anger than he'd directed towards me at any other point in the conversation. I shook my head, trying to clear it, then forced myself to look at him, and once again, I found myself with nothing to give him but the truth. “It means, I'm figuring out stuff about myself. Stuff I'm not sure I like, but stuff I can't ignore anymore. Stuff that means I'm gonna have to change everything I ever planned for the future. It's hard, it's scary, and it's confusing, and I'm sorry you got caught up in the fucking disaster that is my life. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt anybody. I just don't see how to avoid doing a lot of that right now, and it's my own fault for not manning up sooner.”

“What the hell's going on, Jane?” He was using what I thought of as the Colonel's voice. The one he used when he was giving orders at the Veteran's Center. The one he used when he expected answers or obedience, or both. He was good at it, but I'd had a lifetime of practice at ignoring the voice of God given authority in the form of my mother. I just shrugged it off.

“I'm sorry, Casey. I want to tell you everything, but I can't right now. There are other people who deserve to know first.”

“Before your boyfriend?”

I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye and spoke with my cop voice. The one that I used when I wanted there to be absolutely no doubt about my authority or resolve. “Ex boyfriend.” Somehow, just saying the word lifted some of the weight that had been sitting on my shoulders for weeks.

He leaned back, looking at me. “Well, I guess that's it then.” There was resignation in his voice. Acceptance.

I wanted to cry in relief, but there was more to be said. “Casey, you've been a good friend to me-”

“Jane, let's not.” The anger was back in his voice, mixed with weariness, and I could tell he wanted to just walk away, but I really didn't want that to happen. I didn't have enough friends that I could afford to let one go lightly, and after the week I had planned, I might not have any friends or family left, unless you counted Giovanni, who was just about the only one I was sure wouldn't mind hanging out with me.

“Not what?” I asked, playing stupid.

“Let's not do the whole 'can we still be friends' thing. I don't need your pity.” His tone was bitter, but I couldn't find it in myself to blame him. Of all the reasons I had to hate Charles Hoyt, the looks of pity I got after he hurt me burned among the brightest.

“It's not pity.” I knew I sounded defensive, but I couldn't help it.

“Then what is it?”

“You remember when I said I loved you?”

“Kind of hard to forget.”

“I wasn't lying. I care about you. I'm sorry I can't feel the way you want me too, but I really need all the friends I can get right now. Can you just give me a little time? Let me get things straightened out with the people I need to first, and make up your mind once I've explained everything?”

I sat there and watched him for a while, trying to make out what he was thinking, but he had his soldier's face on. It was like staring at a mask. It went on for so long that when he finally spoke, it startled me.

“I wanna be that guy, Jane. The one who accepts things gracefully, who doesn't take it personally, who is fair, and decent and forgiving...”

“But?” I asked, hoping he was going to give me a chance to be his friend, but dreading the brushoff I expect.

“But... Call me when you're ready to tell me what's really going on, and I guess we'll find out if I'm strong enough.”

I nodded. It might not be what I hoped for, but I know it's more than I really have any right to expect. I reached for my wallet, and took out a couple of twenties, dropping them on the table. I might be ill mannered, going through a sexual identity crisis, emotionally damaged, and just generally, all around fucked up, but I do know you don’t make a guy pay for the ‘I’m dumping you’ dinner.

“Take care, okay.” I said it softly, hoping he'd understand that I really meant it.

“You too, Jane.” The answer is perfunctory. I could hear the fatigue in his voice. He wanted out of the conversation, wanted me gone.

I gave him his wish.


	2. Chapter 2

**Maura**

The low cut black dress from the Chanel Winter Collection was hitched up around around my waist as I crawled on on my hands and knees from the foot to the head of my bed. I felt him behind me, climbing onto the bed, pursuing me.

He was angry. I knew it. I heard it in his voice, saw it in the micro-expressions on his face. He was bitter, resentful and ashamed. This would not be gentle like the first few times, it would not be frenzied, like the weekends when I was on call and might have to leave at any moment. It would be hard and fast. He was going to hurt me, to leave contusions.

That was good. That was what I'd wanted from him since the moment I saw him. Someone to punish me for the unpardonable sin of being less than what everyone needed me to be. Instead of the long lost daughter, I was an evil child who was meant to die. Instead of blood, I was water. Instead of the woman she loved, I was her best friend.

I grabbed the box of condoms off the night stand as he grabbed my hips, dragging me back towards him. I felt his erection grind against the lace fabric of the black panties I'd slipped on over the garter belt and stockings. There had been a time when that fashion faux pas would have made me uncomfortable. I'd long since learned to relish how cheap and tawdry it makes me feel. It's such a simple trick, but it never failed to inflame him, to make him desire me. To make him want me.

It felt so good to be wanted, even if it's only as an object to be used.

I knew I should be ashamed of what I was doing, and I was. But the shame had long ago become an intoxicant, like a more potent version of the substance that convinced me so years before that I was in love with Garrett Fairfield. It made me feel strong, powerful. He hated me. He had for a while now. But he was still here. He still desired me. He, at least, still wanted me. As horribly as I treated him, he still wanted me. Still couldn't stop himself from coming when called.

Jane was wrong. I was a horrible person. And Hope was right. I am evil, tainted by my father's blood.

I passed him the condom, and watched him as he fumbled to open his belt and trousers. He was tall. Strong, but thin and wiry. Olive skinned, with curly hair and brown eyes, and his voice was low and husky, not that I let him talk much. He freed himself, tore open the condom, and rolled it on. I watched until I was sure he would use it, and tried not to think about what the fact that I felt the need to make sure he did said about the company I was keeping.

I turned away when he reached for me. I wanted this, to feel it, to have the release, but however much he looked like her, I couldn't bring myself to watch, to be reminded of the truth. Instead I reached for one of the pillows at the head of the bed, and pulled it towards me. His grip tighten on my hips. He knew what I was doing. I could tell by the angry grunt as he pulled the crotch of my panties aside.

I was still dry when he forced himself into me. It's the reason I made sure to buy lubricated condoms. The slick, glycerin based fluid was all the kept him from hurting me.

I buried my face in the pillow and wrapped my arms around it, imagining what I must look like. My face and shoulders buried in the bed, with my knees under me, holding my pelvis in the air to give him better access to my vulva and vagina. I breathed in deeply, inhaling the perfume of the expensive, custom blended laundry detergent like it was the breath of God. My body responded to the smell of lavender in a way I could only describe as Pavlovian. Arousal was instant, with both my genitals and breasts engorging with blood as plasma seepage began within my vagina and my Bartholin's grand began increased production of mucus, and the pilomotor reflex hardened my nipples. By his third stroke, a wet squelching sound filled the silence between his pants and angry grunts.

I didn't want to hear him. The noises he made as he used me too readily broke the illusion I'd constructed for myself. I reached out with my left and and wrapped the pillow around my head head, one end if it pinned between my right ear and the mattress, the other end pressed down over my left ear, with the middle covering my nose, leaving just enough room for me to breath in the precious, needful lavender perfume.

Besides, I doubted my sobs would be any more arousing for him than his animal grunts were to me.

Like so many of my lovers, and all of the more recent ones, his presence inside me, no matter how forceful, lacked the intensity I needed, wanted and craved. Some of my lovers had been understanding enough, perceptive enough, and giving enough to provide the extra stimulation I needed. He wasn't, and never had been, even in the first flush of passion, so I slid my right hand up between my legs, providing manual stimulation to my engorged clitoris through the bunched fabric of my panties, pushing myself over the edge when he couldn't.

I'm not sure if he was aware enough of me to realize that I came twice while he was inside me, and while it was certainly uncharitable of me to think it, I found myself resentful of the idea that he might have noticed and felt proud of himself for it.

When he finally buried himself all the way inside her and held on as his body shuddered its way through his orgasm, I felt nauseous. I wanted him out. Out of my body, out of my bed, out of my house and most importantly out of my life. It couldn't happen fast enough to suit me.

He slipped his hand between us, and I was disgusted at the intimacy of the gesture, even though I understood the necessity. He gripped the base of the condom, holding it in place as he pulled out of me. I couldn't stop myself from thinking how selfish he was. He could use his hand to protect himself this way, but he couldn't use the same gesture to pleasure me.

I let go of the pillow, and it unfolded, letting me watch him back off the bed, holding the filled condom like it was some animal that might bite him. He dropped it in the trash can next to my vanity, then he pulled up the cheap poly-cotton boxers and the wrinkled, ugly slacks.

I could see the anger still on his face, but it was his own fault, really. Oh, certainly, I had used him, but then, he'd let himself be used. After all, any trained observer would have noticed that I was more aroused by the scent of my bed sheets than I was by his body, that I never looked at him during sex, or that I'd once walk out of the restaurant in the middle of a date for no reason other than spend two plus hours sitting on a bench, listening to Jane complain about how badly some movie had botched police procedures.

And of course, he'd also committed the unpardonable sin of not being the person I wanted to be with. For that, alone, I thought I might hate him.

He looked at me, and I easily identified the micro-expressions. Anger, embarrassment, shame.

“Don't call me again,” he said, before he stormed out of her bedroom. A moment later, the front door slammed.

I sighed, realizing I'd have to lock up myself, but I also felt a sense of relief. I never gave any of my lovers the alarm code, a key. It was so much easier to be rid of them that way.

I climbed out of bed, but instead of heading downstairs, I headed for the bathroom. Locking up would have to wait. I needed a shower, desperately. I couldn't stand the thought of having any trace of him on me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Jane**

I used my key, opening the door to Maura's house without bothering to knock, for no other reason than I could, and I wasn't sure how much longer I would have that privilege. After all, it's one thing to give a key and free reign to your platonic best friend. It's another thing entirely to give them to someone who's in love with you, but who you're not interested in. Hell, Maura didn't give keys or the alarm code to people she was interested in.

I was a little surprised to find Ma there, but it was a bit of a relief. It saved me the trouble of having to call her and figure out a time when we could talk, just the two of us. Now that I'd started the whole coming out thing, I really wanted to just get it over with as fast as I could. Kind of like ripping a band-aid off. I'd briefly considered just dropping the gay bomb in the middle of a family dinner, or a gnocchi night, but there are limits to my bravery, and I don't think I could take loosing my entire family and all my friends in one sitting.

“Hey, Ma,” I said as I closed the front door and started towards the kitchen, looking around for Maura. I didn't see her, but I did see Bass making a mad dash for the laundry room with two prickly pear paddles clasped in his jaw. I was always a little surprised at how fast the big guy can move, and always a little amused at the fact that the clever little bastard hoarded food when me or Ma fed him, so he could fake a hunger strike in front of Maura until she gave him an entire bowl of strawberries. I had considered telling Maura about his hiding place, but I admire his ingenuity too much to rat him out.

Ma looked up from the lump of gnocchi dough she was kneading on the counter. “Hey, sweetie. You looking for Maura?”

I gave her my best 'I'm hurt' frown. “What, can't I just come over to spend some time with my Mom?”

Ma smiled and I knew I was in trouble. “Of course you can.” She said, never missing a beat as she worked the dough. “Not that you ever do.”

I rolled my eyes as I walked past her to get a beer out of the fridge. “Come on, Ma. I visit you every day.”

“Sure,” she said. “When you come down to get lunch, or when you come by to visit Maura. The last time you came by to see me was...” She stopped, and I could see the worry spread across her face.   
“Oh, God, you and Maura aren't fighting again, are you? I thought she looked upset. What did you do this time Jane?”

I stopped half way to the drawer where Maura hides my favorite bottle opener and glare at Ma. “Really, Ma? Why do you automatically assume it's something I did?”

Ma just pointed a finger at me like I confessed to murdering Jimmy Hoffa. “So you are fighting again. I knew it!”

I sighed and went to the drawer to get my Red Sox bottle opener. “No, Ma, we're not fighting. Where is she, anyway? Out with what's his name?” I popped open the beer and took a sip while I waited for the answer.

Ma shrugged. “Mark?”

Mark. Yeah. That was it. Stupid name, really, but then, it seems like Maura only dates guys with stupid names. Garrett, Giovanni, Byron, Dennis, Ian.

Okay, I was fucking jealous. I automatically hated everything about anyone Maura dates. Names, birth dates, shoe sizes. I'm not proud. Whatever she told me about them, I found a damn good reason to hate them for it. Everyone needed a hobby.

Then Ma makes my day. “No, she's not out with him. She said he wouldn't be around anymore. I tried to ask what happened, but you know how she gets when she dumps one of them. Never a backwards glance. Accept for that drug smuggler.”

“Ian wasn’t a...” I almost choked when I realize I was about to actually defend Ian, but instead, I just grinned at Ma and agreed with her characterization of the scumbag. “Okay, yeah, accept for the drug smuggler.” It wasn't as satisfying as it should have been, mostly because I was immediately reminded of the 'love of my life' speech, and wished I'd arrested him when I had the chance. I briefly wondered if Korsak's Interpol guy could arrange a Turkish prison.

“So, where is she?” I asked, as I wondered if I should be worried about how quickly I'd gone from 'I want to protect my best friend' to 'I want to shoot everyone who so much as looks at my woman'. I'd never really cared for jealously in guys, and I wasn't thrilled with the idea of turning into a jealous boyfriend myself.

Ma gave a little half shrug. “She left about an hour ago. Said something about needing to get out of the house for a bit.”

I nodded and sat down in one of the bar stools across the island from Ma, considering it for a moment. I'd actually dropped by to see Maura, and maybe see if I could talk her into the two buck chuck and footie pajamas night I'd been longing for during my talk with Casey, but Maura's idea of 'getting out of the house' meant one thing. She was going shoe shopping. In person. I knew from experience that Maura in a shoe store was at least a four hour affair, which meant that I would never get a better chance to talk to Ma without Maura around.

“That's good.”

Ma immediately looked up at me, concern written on her face. It made sense. One of the surest signs that there's something wrong with me is me not wanting Maura around. “Honey, what's going on? Don't you want to see her?”

I shook my head, which sent Ma very nearly into panic mode. “I wanted to talk to you alone.”

Ma reached for a towel and started cleaning her hands off as quickly as she could. “What's wrong, sweetie?” I could hear the concern in her voice, and I felt like I was eight years old again, about to tell her I'd gotten in trouble at school for something.

I took a drink of my beer, and I was almost surprised it wasn't the apple juice she always gave me as soon as I got home. “You want the whole list, or just the highlights?” I ask. She came around the island and sat down next to me. I opened my mouth, fully intending to tell her that her only daughter was a great big lesbian, and said, “I broke up with Casey last night.”

She reached over and pulled me into a hug. “Oh, Honey, I'm so sorry.”

“I'm not.” I hadn't meant to say it so bluntly, but it felt oddly good to just tell the truth about it.

She let go and leaned back, so she could get a good look at me. “What happened?”

I shrugged and looked down at my beer, avoiding her gaze. I don't want to see the disappointment I know will be there. “I just realized that he's not who I want to be with, ya know?”

“But he's so sweet, and good looking.”

Her words settled in my stomach like a rock, and I nodded. I couldn't help thinking about how much worse it was going to get before it was over. She'd always been taken with Casey, and I wondered for a moment if she'd already started planning the wedding. I bit my lip, wondering if it was to late to forget the whole coming out plan. Maybe I could beg Casey to take me back.

No. I knew better than that. I might not have Maura to look forward to at the end of this, but one thing I knew for sure was that I couldn't keep lying to myself, and once I'd admitted what I wanted to myself, the idea of living in the closet was damn near unbearable. I couldn't do that to myself, and I couldn't do that to my friends and my family. As annoyed as I got with them sometimes, I loved all of them, and I couldn't hide something so important from them.

“I know,” I said. “He's a great guy, and I feel bad for him, especially after I pushed him so hard after...” I waved my hand helplessly in the air, unable to even say it. Ma nodded in understanding. “I told him I was afraid we'd end up like you and Pop, and I'd shoot him when he asked me for an annulment and get Maura to help me hide the body.”

“Jane!” Ma shouted, but there was a little bit of a smile on her face. The kind that was hard to spot, but that meant 'I'm trying to be shocked but I really want to laugh'.

I grinned, and before I knew it, she was grinning back, and I feel some of the fear easing up. Ma and me, we didn't have a lot of moments like that, but there were times, growing up, when we gossiped more like sisters than mother and daughter, and that's what it felt like. I wanted to reach out and hug her, and I wanted to cry, because I was terrified that it might be the last time we ever talked like that.

“It wasn't true,” I said. “I think, if I stayed with him, if I married him, I'd be the one who'd run off with someone.” It wasn't the whole truth, but it was a step towards it.

Ma reached out and rested her hand on my shoulder, and I reached up and covered her hand with my own, pathetically grateful for even the smallest bit of contact, when I usually didn't like to be touched at all.

“Janie, you can't let what happened to your father and me ruin your relationships.”

I took another sip of my beer, then set it down while I thought about how to put what I was feeling into words. “It's not that, Ma. I just... I look at what happened with you and Pop and I realized I couldn't do to Casey what Pop did to you. It wouldn't be fair, but if I married Casey, knowing he wasn't the person I really wanted to be with, that's what would eventually happen. I wouldn't be happy, and I'd leave, and that would be a really dirty thing to do to someone who'd been pretty good to me.”

We sat there for a few moments before I was brave enough to look up at Ma. I could almost see the wheels turning. After a while, Ma reached out with the hand that wasn't already on my shoulder, and patted my knee. “I think I understand.”

A mix of emotions flooded through me. Relief, mostly, but also a lot of surprise. “I thought you'd be more upset.”

She smiled at me, and patted my knee again. “I just want you to be happy. If that means you want to be with someone other than Casey, than I'm okay with that. As long as it's not Giovanni. You'd look terrible in a sequined bathing suit.”

I snorted, then started laughing and the mischievous grin on Ma's face, and that set her off too. We sat there for a long time, giggling like a pair of school girls, and it felt good. I hadn't laughed like that with Ma in a long time. When I could breath again, I said, “Thanks, I needed that.”

She gave my knee another squeeze. “So, does this mystery person you want to be with have a name?”

It was like she'd dumped a bucket of ice water on me. All the laughter was just gone, and I felt nothing but dread. This was the moment I'd been working my way up to for weeks. I opened my mouth, once again intending to just spit it out, but I couldn't say it. I needed more time, so for once, I just asked for it. “Can we talk about something else for a bit?” I could see the reluctance to drop the topic written clearly on her face, but Ma surprised me, and just nodded.

“Of course. Whatever you want.”

That's the thing I've always loved about Ma. She might meddle, she might push, but if you ask for something, straight up, she will always gave you what you needed. I took a deep breath, and looked down at my beer again, not really sure what to say, but after a couple of minutes, something came to mind. Something I'd been thinking about a lot over the last couple of weeks.

“There's this case I can't stop thinking about.”

“The double shooting up in the back bay?”

I looked up at Ma. “How do you know about that?” I'd been avoiding talking about that one in front of her because I knew it would upset her. Hell, it upset me. Two girls, gunned down by their own father after he lost custody.

“I heard Vince and Barry talking about it at lunch yesterday. It was awful, what happened to those two girls.”

I shook my head and looked back down at her beer, making a note to have a talk with Korsak and Frost about what they talked about in front of my mother. “No. The double is all done. Got a confession last night.”

“Then what's the case?”

I took a sip of my beer, just to give myself time to think about how to say it. “It's an old one. Couple of years back. It's just, all this stuff with Dad, the divorce, the annulment, and even Tommy a little bit, has me thinking about it. Not so much the case, as one of the suspects.”

Ma put her hand on my back and started rubbed it slowly, her fingers curled just enough that I could feel her nails. It was familiar, comforting. Something she used to do when me, Tommy or Frankie would get upset. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

I nodded out of habit, but it took a lot of effort not to cringe. I wanted to believe her. Much as I bitched about her, I couldn't imagine what life would be like without Ma. And what kid doesn't crave the absolute, unconditional love that a mother offers? The idea of life without Ma terrified me. Me, big bad Detective Rizzoli. The one the guys on the force called Detective Sexy McBadass when I wasn't around. But that's exactly what I was afraid of. That Ma's love wasn't unconditional. We were Catholic, and Ma wanted me to find some nice Italian Catholic boy and pop out grand-kids for her.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't take the hurt, the disgust, the disappointment and the rejection I knew I'd see in her eyes. Not yet. So, I did the brave thing. I stalled. “We found this woman, in an ally. It looked like a sexual assault, but she was married, and it turned out she'd been cheating.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm my and go on.

“Her husband did it?” Ma said, and I want to give her a high five. I'd never admit it to anyone, but I'm convinced that Ma and Frankie both would make amazing detectives.

“Wife,” I said. Giving her the missing piece of information. “Her wife and her wife's girlfriend.” I watch her face, looked for the disgust, but it doesn't come. Ma's hand stops moving on my back for a minute, and I can watch her assimilate the information, but there's just sadness there.

“Oh. That's awful,” she said, and her hand started rubbing my back again. “To have someone you love turn on you like that is just awful.” There was pain on her face. I could see she was thinking of the way Pop treated her when he left.

“Yeah.” The word came out, another delaying tactic. Things weren't going the way I expected, but I was starting to feel a little bit of hope. Ma didn't seem to have any trouble with the idea of two married women. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

“It was... It was really cold blooded, the way she did it. But, like I said. I wasn't really thinking about the case. I was thinking about one of the suspects we looked at. Before we realized the wife had an accomplice, we'd ruled her out. She had an alibi. So, we were looking at these websites where the victim was meeting her dates. Korsak and Frost came up with this brilliant idea that, since I looked like the victim, I should set a profile up on one of the lesbian dating sites the vic used and see if we could get DNA off any dates I got. Maybe find the murderer that way.”

“But that's so dangerous! You could have been hurt.”

I rolled my eyes, because that's what I always did when Ma worried about my job, but I really wanted to hug her and tell her I love her and to thank her for carrying about me, and for being more upset by the idea of me hunting a murderer than going on dates with a bunch of lesbians. Instead, I reassure her. “Ma, I met all of them in a public place, and I had three other cops watching me the whole time. Korsak, Frost, and Garcia from SAU.”

“But something must have happened, if you're still upset about it after all this time.” God, seriously. Ma should have joined the force. She'd have a ridiculous closure rate.

I looked down at my half empty beer. “The first girl I talked to, her name was Mary Ann.” I stopped for a minute, remembering her face. She'd used the name Miranda on her profile. “I don't think I appreciated it at the time, but God, Ma, she was so brave.” I had to stop, again, because my chest was tight and I had a huge lump in my throat. I'd been so unfair to her, so dismissive. But there I was, in her shoes, and I couldn't help but admire the mousy little girl now. “She told me about it. How she spent months working up the nerve to tell her parents. She got the answering machine, and she just spit it out. 'Mom, Dad, I'm gay!'.”

I tried to go on, but I couldn't I just sat there, waiting for the righteous indignation. The rant about how awful she was for doing that to her parents. It didn't come, and the silence stretched out, seconds turning into minutes while I waited for Ma to say something, but Ma surprised me. She just kept rubbing my back, and waiting. Eventually, she must have decided I wasn't going to finish the story on my own, so she asked, “What happened?”

I sighed, thinking back to Mary Ann's face. “They called her back. Yelled at her. Called her all sorts of awful things. That was the last time she heard from them. But there she was, nervous, awkward, shy, but doing her best to find someone, to find what she wanted.” I shook my head, trying to clear it. Trying to keep myself from losing it. I was shaking like a leaf. “I can't understand it. How a parent could be like that. How can you just stop loving your kid because they aren't what you want them to be.”

“All I could think of at the time was you, Pop, and Tommy. How you'd stuck by him, even when he'd hit a priest. I thought you two would never give up on one of us. But lately... It's like Pop doesn't want us anymore. He just wants his little bimbo. But sometimes I feel bad, because I wonder if we're doing the same thing, you know. Judging him for who he wants to be with. I wonder if we're hurting him.”

Ma pulled me into a hug, and I wanted to stay there forever. “It's not the same, sweetheart.”

“No? How's it different?”

“What those people did to that poor little girl was awful.”

I looked up at Ma, stunned, relieved, hopeful. God, I didn't know how to feel. I wasn't sure if Ma feeling bad for the way a stranger was treated was the same as Ma accepting that her daughter was gay, but the pressure in my chest eased just a little.

“What those people did was awful. She was just trying to tell her parents who she was, and what she needed to be happy. They judged her for something she couldn't help. Your father abandoned us. All of us. If it had just been me, I could have understood, but he left you, Frankie and Tommy behind too. Nothing, not a call, not a letter, for a year. He never even tried. I could forgive him for leaving me, I could even forgive him for taking what little we had. But not what he did to you and your brothers. He's your father. He's supposed to love you no matter what. Just like I do.”

I didn't know what to do. What to say. In that moment, I think I loved my mother more than I had ever before. I wanted to hug her, and kiss her and tell her she was the best mother in the world, because she loved me. She loved me, no matter what, and I could tell her, and she'd still love me. “Ma, I'm...” I choked on the word, but Ma leaned forward, wrapping me in a tight hug.

“It's okay, sweetie. You can say it. I love you. I'll always love you.”

“I'm gay.” It came out in a whisper, but Ma's arms tightened around me for a moment. “I love you, Janie. I love you so much. And I'm proud of you. You're so brave.”

I felt the sob hitch in my chest. I wanted to tell her it isn't true. That I was more terrified than I've ever been in my life. That I'd have never gotten through it if it hadn't been for her. But I couldn't get the words out.

After a few minutes, Ma pulled away, and even though there were tears in her eyes, she wore the biggest smile as she looked at me.

“Maura?” she asked, softly.

I know she didn't mean it. She didn't know. How could she? But the question was still felt like a punch in the gut. I couldn't answer, so I just nodded.

Ma frowned, and I knew she could tell I was upset, because her next question was full of concern. “Have you told her?”

“No.”

“Oh, honey, why not?”

“She...” It was all I could get out before I choked on a sob. My chest was tighter than before, and I felt like I was gasping for every breath. The fear of losing Ma was gone, and I'd expected that to make things better, but... My second year on the force, a perp had shoved a four hundred pound oak cabinet over on me. My leg was broken in three places, but I didn't feel a damn thing. Not until the EMT's lifted the cabinet off me and the blood had rushed back into my leg. It felt like that. Like the fear of losing Ma had cut off the circulation to my broken heart, and once that fear was gone, the feeling was came back full force. Maura wasn't in love with me. Maura didn't want to be with me.

“She doesn't...” I choked on the words again, but Ma, God bless her, understood, and pulled me into another hug. It was like a damn burst, and for the first time since the night a sick, deranged bastard nailed me to the floor with a pair of scalpels, I wept, unashamedly, in my mother's arms.

Ma sat there, for what must have been hours, holding me and rocking me, whispering over and over again, “Oh, Janie. My poor Janie. Just let it out.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Maura**

I heard ESPN as soon as I opened the door, and couldn't help but smile. There was something incredibly satisfying about coming home and finding Jane in my house. I pushed the door closed and flipped the lock, then turned around and headed into the living room, shopping bags clutched firmly in one hand while I held my keys in the other.

What I found in the living room surprised me. Angela was sitting on the couch, holding a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. I tilted my head in a common inquisitive gesture, and she replied by pointing down. That's when I spotted Jane. She was curled up, and based on body posture and breathing rhythm, somewhere deep in a REM sleep cycle. I frowned, an involuntary gesture caused by the concern I felt. While it wasn't entirely out of the ordinary for Jane to fall asleep in that position, it was usually my lap she was resting her head on. She was not usually so physically demonstrative with her mother. I moved around the couch, and what I saw didn't surprise me so much as it alarmed me. Judging from the inflammation around the eyes and the waste basket full of tissues on the floor, it was obvious that Jane had been crying for a prolonged period of time.

I don't guess, but based on Jane's normal patterns of behavior, I could form a reasonable hypothesis as to the sequence of events leading up with that moment. Jane had likely come over looking for comfort from her best friend, only I hadn’t been there. I'd been out, shopping for shoes when my friend needed me.

I know it's physically impossible to choke on guilt. Guilt is an intangible emotion. However, that didn't stop my body from producing a choking sensation as the physiological response to the guilt I felt caused a construction of my airway. I watched helplessly as Angela reached down and gently rubbed Jane’s shoulder, and felt an entirely irrational stab of jealousy at the fact that I wasn't the one comforting Jane in her time of distress.

“Poor thing had a rough night,” Angela whispered.

“What happened?” I asked, and once again, I felt the guilt gnawing at me. I shouldn't have to ask someone else what's wrong with Jane.

Angela opened her mouth as if she intended to explain, but no words came out. Instead, she shook her head. “I think I should let her tell you. It's... personal. And as much as I hate to say it, I don't think I can help her this time.”

“You're scaring me, Angela.” The words were honest, but unfiltered. I wanted to take them back. I wanted to push her out of the way and wrap my arms around Jane. I felt exposed, off balance, and yes, scared. What could be so bad that Angela wouldn't tell me about it? Or worse, so bad she thought Jane wouldn't want me to know.

I loved Jane. She knew that. Everyone knew that. They might not realize the full nature or extent to which my feelings ran, but I was never even remotely shy about my affection for Jane. What could Angela possibly think would make me turn away from her?

Angela, most likely not realizing how cruel she was being, didn't reply to my statement. She simply gave me a sad smile as she gripped Jane's shoulder and shook her slightly. “Janie, sweetheart. Maura's home.”

Jane shifted slightly, curling in on her self. I could predict, with a degree of certainty which approached unity, exactly what she was about to say. “Five more minutes.” Jane said the words at the same time I whispered them quietly to myself.

Angela's smile got bigger, though I was unsure if it was because of what Jane had said, or if she'd heard me whisper the the same thing. Despite the smile I could see tears threatening to spill from her eyes as she shook Jane again. “Come on, Janie. I'm sure Maura wants her house back.”

I almost argued with her. I came so very close to telling her that this house is as much Jane's as it is mine. I didn't. It was too personal.

Jane grumbled something that I couldn't hear, but from past experience knew including the words 'gun', 'invented', and 'mornings'. She stretched and yawned, then scrubbed her eyes with her fingers. “What time is it?” I whispered the question as Jane asked it aloud.

“Half past seven,” Angela said.

Jane's eyes opened and she looked down at her watch. “Oh, God. Jo's probably watering the couch cushions by now.” I smiled, not able to help myself. Jo is an amazingly well behaved dog, who has never once relieved herself on the couch. Sadly, the same could not be said with regards to my hand stitched wool slacks.

“Don't be silly, Jane. It's far more likely that she'll relieve herself on the clothes you insist on leaving on the floor.”

Jane glared at me. “Thank you, Maura. That is so much better.”

I smiled at Jane, willfully ignoring the sarcasm in her voice, and gave her a cheerful, “You're welcome.” The smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth eased my guilt a little, but I wished Angela would leave. I normally adored her, but at that moment, I just wanted to be alone with Jane, to find out what was wrong.

Angela patted Jane's thigh, and I could see the effort she was putting into not laughing at the gentle way I was teasing Jane. “Don't worry,” she said. “I called Frankie and sent him over to walk her.”

Jane smiled at her mother. “Thanks, Ma.” She turned to look at me, and I couldn't help but notice how nervous she was. “How was your shopping trip?”

“Oh, you know. The usual.” I'd learned early on that sometimes it was best not to discuss certain shopping trips with Jane. She was sensitive about money and the differences in our socioeconomic background. The idea that I would spend more on a single pair of shoes than she brought home in her weekly paycheck bothered her, which was why I had to be careful about how I broached the next topic. “I bought you something.”

“Maura...” I could hear the distress in her voice. She always complained when I spent money on her, but sometimes I couldn't help myself.

Angela patted Jane's knee, then stood up. “I'll just give you girls a bit of space.” I smiled at her, grateful that she was giving me my place beside Jane back. I picked up the bag holding Jane's present and sat down on the couch as Angela made her way into the kitchen and started cleaning up what looking like a ruined lump of dough. I smiled at Jane as I fished the box out of the bag.

“Oh, no. Maura, you didn't buy me Jimmy Choos.”

“I did,” I said, smiling and bowling right over the whining tone in her voice. “Don't worry. They had the entire Pre-Fall 2012 collection on clearance to make way for the Fall/Winter 2013 collection. Besides,” I took the lid off the shoe box, and tilted it up, so she could see what was inside, “I thought you could use some winter weight boots.”

Jane's eyes went wide, and almost hesitantly, she lifted the black leather, fur lined biker boot out of its box. She ran her fingers over the butter soft leather, and I could see the desire in her eyes. I also knew she was going to try to refuse to accept them.

“Maura, this is-”

“Practical,” I said, cutting her off. “This way, I don't have to spend the entire winter listening to you complain about your feet being too cold. And,” I added proudly, “I got them in the right size, so you won't get blisters or another ingrown toenail.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Jane said. She was trying to glare at me, but the effect was spoiled by the way she was grinning, and by the tears in her eyes. All I could think was how I wished it was always like that. That she would just let me take care of her the way I wanted too, instead of having to sneak around, then badger or manipulate her into accepting what I'd done for her. I wished she could just accept that I did it because I loved her, not because I wanted to remind her of the size of my bank account.

“You've been crying.” The words spilled out like they always do when I'm feeling emotional or overwhelmed, and I was reminded why my love life was a disaster. Jane was right. I really couldn't help myself. My subconscious did it on purpose, as a defense mechanism, because awkwardness is a kind of social tension, maybe the only kind, I know how to deal with.

The glare, the grin, and the watery eyes were gone in an instant, replaced by genuine, if affectionate, annoyance. “Way to go, Maur. I can tell you've been working on those tactful transitions.”

“What's wrong?” I asked, ignoring her sarcasm, which was just as highly developed a social defense mechanism in Jane as my tendency to make uncomfortably blunt statements was in me. She looked down, avoiding eye contact the way she always did when a topic made her uncomfortable. The concern I'd felt since I first saw her curled up on the couch started growing, and I remembered the way Angela refused to tell me what was going on, and one fear that was never far from my mind came screaming to the fore. “Is it something I've done?”

“No!” Jane shook her head, and looked up at me. “Why would you think that?” There was genuine confusion and worry in her voice, and I felt relief, because she wasn't lying. Whatever it was that had her so upset wasn't my fault. I felt a little guilty for being so focused on the idea of my own culpability, but I lived most days in fear of hurting Jane, simply because I had done so on so many occasions without even realizing it.

“Your mother wouldn't tell me what's wrong, and she usually has no trouble sharing your personal business with your friends, unless one of them has upset you.”

“Hey!” Angela shouted from the kitchen. “I'm right here.”

Jane rolled her eyes and looked over at her mother. “What happened to giving us space, Ma?”

“I need to clean up Maura's kitchen. I'm sure she doesn't want a ruined lump of gnocchi dough laying around all night.”

I smiled at the interaction between mother and daughter, and though they are bickering at each other, it was easy to hear the affection in it. It had taken me a long time to learned how to look for it, but once I did, I was amazed I'd ever been able to miss it. Even Angela's initial rebuke doesn't phase me, because she used the same tone with me that she would have used with Jane, or Frankie, or Tommy. The tone she reserved for the good natured arguments that seemed to be a family past time.

“That would be highly unsanitary,” I said in a tone both Angela and Jane knew was teasing, “but I can clean it up myself.”

“You sure, sweetie?”

I smiled at her. I was always touched by the care Jane's entire family used when it came to handling my possessions. I gave her a brief nod to indicate that I was, in fact, okay with cleaning up my own kitchen, and Angela seemed to sense that my need for a private moment with Jane was more important than her sense of propriety regarding kitchen cleaning responsibilities. She picked up a towel, cleaning her hands off quickly, then headed out the back door to the guest house, with a simple 'goodnight' shouted on her way out.

“How is it you can get rid of my mother any time you want, but I've gotta call SWAT when I want to get her out of my place.” Jane asked in a tone that was a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

I turned back to her, and gave her an honest, if somewhat teasing answer. “Perhaps it's because you tell her you want her to leave even when you don't, so she's never sure whether to take you seriously or not when you tell her you want to be alone.”

Jane stared at me for a moment, and I waited for the protest I was sure would come, but Jane surprised me. Instead of a vehement denial, she just looked thoughtful for a moment, and nodded. “Huh? You're probably right.”

The statement was so out of character for Jane, that I reached up, pressing my hand to her forehead, checking to see if she was hot to the touch.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Checking for signs of fever. I've already noticed the dehydration, but that's common with prolonged periods of crying. Fatigue also wouldn't be a good indicator after an emotional upset. Are you experiencing any shivers, sweating or nausea?” I was rattling off symptoms at the same time as I was making a mental catalog of what antipyretics I had in the house.

“Why would you think I have a fever?”

I took my hand off her forehead, unable to detect an abnormally high temperature, and instead, reached down, taking her hands in mine, holding them as I looked into her eyes. “You're acting very out of character. Normally you would have argued with me for between three and seven minutes after I suggested a change in behavior with regards to your mother.”

Jane just smiled at me. “Maybe I just realized you're right.”

I was torn between the warm feeling that spread through me at what she said, and worry over her unusual behavior. “Jane, what's happened? Something has obviously upset you a great deal.”

She leaned back on the couch, and sighed. Her eyes dropped, avoiding contact again. “I'm not sure upset is the right word. I think I'm more relieved than anything else.” She picked up the remote, and turned off the TV. “I called it quits with Casey last night.”

“Oh,” I said. Relief flooded through me, and I experienced an uncharacteristic desire to get up and do a victory dance similar to the ones the Patriots sometimes did whenever they scored a touchdown, and a desire to open the bottle of Champagne I kept chilled in the wine refrigerator. It took slightly longer for me to feel guilty about how selfish both impulses were. Jane was obviously in distress, and I was selfishly celebrating the fact that I wouldn't have to share her with Casey anymore. I took a couple of seconds to calm down, and construct a socially acceptable reply. “I knew things had become tense, but I didn't realize they'd gotten that bad.”

Jane shrugged. “They weren't bad. Casey's a good guy. A bit of a drama queen sometimes, but a good guy. I just realized that we weren't going to do anything but make each other miserable, so I called it off.”

“Why do you think you'd-”

“Maura, I know I usually talk to you about all of this stuff, and I promise you, I'll tell you everything. But right now, I'm just all talked out. Casey last night, and Ma this afternoon. Can you let me get a little distance before I go through it all again?”

I forced myself to smile, and nod, and ignore the lie she told me about being 'all talked out'. “Of course. Take all the time you need,” I said, surprised that my voice didn't crack. I tried my best not to take her words as a rejection, but they stung, far more than they really should have. In fact, if it had been anyone but Jane, I would have probably excused myself, rushed over to Jane's apartment, and had a good cry on her shoulder. Except for the fact that, if it were anyone but Jane, those words wouldn't have hurt me all all. I was used to other people lying to me, but not Jane. Well, not about anything important. I'd long ago learned to let the lies she told me about what she ate for dinner or how recently she'd done her laundry pass unchallenged. But she never lied to me about anything important. Not even when we were fighting.

“Are you going to go home?” I asked her. I hadn't really planned the question, but it slipped out, and I realized that despite the hurt, I was desperate for her company. Or perhaps it was because of the hurt. My first instinct, any time I'm hurt, was to seek her out.

Jane smiled at me. “Well, since Ma got Frankie to walk Jo, I can stick around for a while. I'll even clean up the mess in the kitchen, since it's my fault mom spoiled the dough anyway.” Jane stood up and pulled me to my feet by our linked hands. “Come on. You can tell me all about your new shoes while we clean.”

“I thought you were going to clean, since it was your mess.” I made the comment in a teasing tone, but my heart wasn't really in it. I was too upset, and too busy wondering why Jane felt the need to lie to me. I always wanted my world to make sense. Right then, it didn't, and I had a childish urge to stomp my foot and demand Jane tell me what was going on.

“I would do it by myself, but we both know you'll just come along behind me and redo it unless I let you help. Besides, if we work together, we can finish early enough that I can take you out for dinner at someplace that doesn't name items on their menus after the arteries they clog up.”

I forced myself to laugh, and Jane was either distracted enough not to realize I was faking it, or polite enough not to call me on it. She led me into the kitchen, and we started the cleanup. The mess wasn't too horrible. Angela had used plenty of flour on the counter, to the dough didn't stick too badly, and since gnocchi doesn't require yeast in the dough, there was no sour smell. Just cold, stale dough. After a few minutes of scraping and scrubbing and disinfecting, the night even began to feel normal, and my laughter at Jane's jokes became genuine, but once she left, I went to bed and spent a sleepless night, unable to forget that, for the first time since we'd become friends, Jane was keeping a secret from me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N This was written well before 'Home Town Glory (3x09)' Established the length of Angela's marriage to Frank at 35 years. The time line Frankie gives in this chapter assumed that the Reunion in '17 Ain't So Sweet (2x13)' was Jane's 20 Year Reunion, and Jane spent two years in college before entering the academy. That would make Jane roughly 3 years older than Maura. According to the timeline from (3x09), the reunion must have been a 15 year reunion, which would make Jane two years younger than Maura in canon.

**Jane**

“So what's eating you?” Frankie asked.

I looked up from my plate and gave Frankie my best 'what the fuck' glare.

“You've been staring at that piece of pizza for ten minutes like you're worried it's gonna get up off the plate and take a bite out of you, instead of the other way around. So, I put my amazing detective skills to work and figured out something's bothering you. So, what is it? Casey giving you a hard time?”

I sighed and cursed him and his stupid ninety-six percent on the detective's exam. My family is way too perceptive for their own good. “No. Casey and I are done.”

“What happened?” Frankie asked, before he took the last bite off his own slice of pizza. Jo whimpered next to his feet, and without even thinking about it, he tossed the crust down the hall. Jo took off after it in a little fit of puppy joy.

I stared at him in complete disbelief for a moment before I started yelling. “Oh, nice. I'm checking before you leave, and if there's a drop of tomato sauce on the wall, you're scrubbing the whole thing.”

He just laughed, and gave me that stupid smile that he has. The one that would make a jury ignore a dozen witnesses and video of him doing anything, because he's too damn cute to be guilty. “Like you don't do the same thing whenever Maura isn't looking. Now come on, quit stalling.”

I reached over and shoved him. “You know, I can still kick your ass, right?” I asked, in my most threatening voice, but the effect was marred by the stupid grin on my face. I can't help it. Frankie might be my little brother, but he'd always been my partner in crime. My record for staying mad at him was a whopping six hours, and that was when he and Tommy read my diary out loud at Thanksgiving dinner, and Ma forbid me from ever seeing Julio De Salvo again.

Frankie never stopped smiling. “Never doubted it. On the other hand, if you don't tell me what happened, I'll spend the entire game holding my finger an inch away from you and shouting 'I'm not touching you.'”

I hauled back and slugged him in the shoulder, because I couldn't let him get away with that. I may love my little brother, but I had a reputation to protect.

“Ow!”

“You had it coming,” I said. Then, just to rub salt in the wound, I picked up my pizza and took a big bite, chewing slowly, and with my mouth open. Maura would have been horrified. Ma would have slapped me silly.

Frankie looked over and made a face. “Nice. And you're supposed to be the one setting an example.”

I swallowed the pizza and smiled. “I am. It's just not a good example.”

He laughed and turned back to the TV. We sat there for a few minutes, and the silence felt good. Comfortable. Just me and Frankie, sharing a Sunday afternoon like we used to. For a minute, I could imagine that Ma was in the kitchen, and Pop was out on a job. Of course, Tommy was the sticking point. Back in the day, he'd been in jail. Now, he was just... somewhere, and not answering his cell phone. I was tempted to have Korsak put out a BOLO for the little shit, just to make a point. I loved Tommy, but I was really sick of him not following through on his promises, and he'd promised to be there.

Normally, I'd have let a missed Sunday afternoon game slide, but I wasn't in the mood that day, because I'd wanted to tell them together. Rip the bandage off quick, and see how many brothers I was left with. On the other hand, as mean as it was, I figured I could live without Tommy in my life. God knows I'd done it often enough over the last few years. It was Frankie I was worried about. Having Ma on my side, and seeing the way she'd reacted made it less scary, which meant I wasn't in eminent danger of pissing my panties like I'd been the day before, but I was still having trouble not just shaking with fear.

“I dumped him. Told him I'd figured out he's not the person I really want to be with.”

Frankie leaned forward and grabbed another slice out of the box. “About time.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” I asked, caught completely off guard by his reaction.

He looked at me like I'd asked him why he showed up to work wearing pants. “It means, as bad as I've messed up my love life, I know better than to go backwards.”

“I will hit you again. Also, Teresa.”

“Easy,” he said, holding up his hands. The greasy slice of double pepperoni hanging from one kind of spoiled the effect. “First, I was never getting back with Teresa. Second, all I'm saying is dating your big high school crush... That never ends well. At least, not when you start dating him two decades after high school. I'm not saying anything against Casey. He seems like a good guy. But that don't make him a good guy for you. You've been through things that would make most people curl up and die. Casey, he never got that.” Frankie took a bite, chewing it slowly, then swallowing it. “I always figured you needed somebody who understood what you've been through. Casey was never gonna be that guy. He never got past you at eighteen. I mean, look at the way he treated you when you guys were investigating those bombings. He didn't respect that you were the one with seventeen years experience as a cop, six years as a detective and four years in Homicide.”

I tossed my slice down on my plate, and grabbed a napkin, wiping the grease of my hands, wondering what I did right in some past life to get such an amazing little brother. “Who do you think could understand what I've been through, Frankie?”

Frankie shrugged. “I don't know. I mean, the only guys I know who I'm sure would understand are Korsak and Frost, but God, Korsak's like Pop's age. That'd just be creepy, and Frost...” Frankie shook his head, smiling. “That would be a like a mouse trying to date a hungry cat.”

I raised an eyebrow and glared at him, or at least I tried to. It lasted about half a second before I burst out laughing, because his description of what me dating Frost would be like was way too accurate.

Frankie wasn't laughing, but he was grinning like crazy. “Not saying you need some big macho guy to tame you, sis. But you need a guy who ain't gonna fold like a cheap suit the first time you cop an attitude. I just figure you need a guy you can respect.”

I smiled at Frankie and turned back to the TV. The Bruins had just started coming out onto the ice. I watched them for a while, chewing my lower lip and working up my nerve. I expected it to be harder after the near meltdown I'd had with Ma. Maybe I just needed to get over that first hurdle, or maybe it was because I can't remember a single time in my life when Frankie didn't have my back. I turned so I could watch his reaction and asked, “What if it wasn't a guy, Frankie?”

“Huh.” He said with a shrug. Then tilted his head slightly, as if he was thinking. “I got dibs on Susie down in the crime lab.”

“Really? That's it? I tell you I'm gay, and all you've gotta say is 'dibs on Maura's assistant'?” I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it was more than that. A hug, some crying. Him being totally freaked out and never speaking to me again. Something, damn it.

“That, and 'boy is Tommy gonna be embarrassed when he realizes why you didn't want him dating Maura'.”

I punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow! That hurt!”

Ha! Served him right. This was a big, huge moment in my life. I was coming out. How dare he not be impressed?! “It was suppose to, you big jerk.”

Frankie rubbed his arm as he looked as me. “You want the truth?”

“Yeah,” I said, wondering what he was talking about.

“I kinda got used to the idea a long time ago.”

I stared at him, confused, wondering if he'd clued in to something about me long before I did. Wondering if I'd spent my entire life as a cliché, the person who is so gay that the only one who didn't know it was me. “What do you mean?”

He got a serious expression on his face, the kind he usually wore when he was helping me, Frost and Korsak work a case. “When I first got on the force, there was a lot of talk about you, ya know. Even when you were still a uni, you were hot shit. Everyone knew Jane Rizzoli, and a lot of guys who'd been on the job longer than you knew you were gonna make detective before them. They had some... not so nice things to say about you. I wanted to pop ‘em one, for talking about you, but I wanted to keep my job, too. So, I had to settle for telling them I didn't like people talking trash about my sister.”

“Of course, some of it was just crap, right. The idea of you sleeping your way to the top was just stupid. I've known nuns who get more action than you-”

I backhanded his shoulder. “Hey!” Jerk.

“Seriously, how many times have you gotten laid since you made detective?”

I glared at him, but he sat there, waiting for an answer, until I finally gave in. “Once.”

“In eight years, Jane. So, yeah.” He picked up his beer and took a sip. “HR has a freakin' stack of complaints, all from me, calling out every guy who ever said that about you. The other things they said though, I kinda just had to let go. You know. I didn't want to, I hated it, but, you get it, right?”

I nodded, because I did understand. I'd put up with it for years. It cooled down a bit after Hoyt, but it didn't stop until I shot Bobby Marino. I guess most of the guys on the force figured shooting a dirty cop killing bastard through my gut was sufficient to pay my dues. Still, I was touched that Frankie wanted to defend my honor, which was funny, because if it had been anyone other than Frankie, I'd have kicked their ass for the suggestion that I couldn't defend my honor just fine by myself.

“Thing is, there's only so many times I could hear one of them call you a dyke without at least considering it. Not whether it was true or not, just how I'd feel if it were true.”

“And how do you feel?” I was almost afraid to ask, even though I was sure I knew the answer.

Frankie, though, he always managed to surprise me.

“I'd probably have been freaked out if you'd told me about it before I joined the force, but like I said, I had a lot of time to think about it, and you know what I think? I think you're still the same big sister that used to take the blame for all the crap Tommy and I broke in the house. I think you're still the same big sister that helped me clean up all of Tommy's messes when Ma and Pop didn't want to admit he had a problem. I think you're the same sister who, and don't think I don't know this, talked one of the highest priced lawyers in Boston into taking Tommy's case, basically pro bono, and why he did a nickle for DUI instead of fifteen for vehicular assault. I think you're the same big sister who saved my life when Marino's gang hit headquarters. I think you're pretty awesome, Jane. I always have.”

I sat there for a moment, speechless. I don't pray often, despite being raised Catholic, but as I looked at Frankie, I thanked God I had him for a brother. “You're pretty awesome yourself, Frankie,” I said, and I meant every word of it.

He nodded and took another sip of his beer. “My biggest concern is that you'll take all the hot girls, and me and Barry will be stuck with your sloppy seconds.”

“And just like that, you ruin the moment.”

Frankie turned away from the game to look at me, and I was struck by the thought that some day, this amazing man was going to make an amazing husband for some woman, and an absolutely amazing dad for some kids. “This where we hug?”

“Yeah. I think it is,” I said, not even trying to keep the stupid grin off my face.

“Well, okay.” He held up his index finger, and shook it at her. “But no more hitting.”

I laughed and wrapped my arms around him, squeezing him tightly, and for a minute, all was right with the world. After I let him go, we both turned back to the Bruins game.

“So, you and Maura?” he asked.

“No.” I sighed, and once again cursed that ninety-six on the detective's exam.

“Huh. I figured when you told me...” he trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

“Yeah, I know. Ma thought the same thing.”

He turned to look at me, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “You told Ma already? How'd that go?”

I smiled at the memory. “A lot better than I expected. She told me she loved me, and that she was proud of me.”

“Did she tell you she still expected grandkids? Because, you know she will, right?”

I shook my head. “No. She probably would have, but I think she got distracted with the Maura talk.”

He nodded. “Yeah. What's up with that? I mean, I haven't seen you hanging out with any other women, so I figured it had to be her.”

I shrugged. “Well, you figured right. It's just one sided.”

He looked at me for a minute, then, without saying anything, he turned back to the game, but I felt his hand slip between us, resting next to mine. I was hesitant, at first. I don't let a lot of people touch my hands, not anymore. Korsak gets away with it every now and again, and there's Maura, but they're both special cases. I realized that's why he didn't simply take my hand. He was offering me the contact, letting me know it was there if I wanted it, but respecting the boundary I'd set up. I slipped my hand into his, and squeezed it tightly.

“Well, look at it this way,” he said. “At least now, Ma knows she needs to fix you up with brainy blonde chicks.”

I punched him in the shoulder again. Jerk.

“Hey, you said no more hitting!”

I glared at him, but I didn't let go of his hand. “No, you said no more hitting. And don't go giving Ma any ideas.”

“Alright...” He reached up, rubbing his shoulder with his free hand. “Janie?”

“Yeah, Frankie?”

“Can you wait a few days to tell the guys at work. I need time to change my bet in the pool.”

Frankie did get hit one more time that afternoon, but only because I had a reputation to protect.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I take full responsibility for what is most likely painfully bad French in this chapter. In my defense, the last French class I had was 21 years ago, and I was always terrible with Romance languages to begin with. Also, Google Translate doesn't to a lot with context. Hopefully, any francophones in the audience will forgive me (or better yet, correct me).
> 
> A/N Updated: Thanks to the people that corrected my French, either in reviews or PM's

**Maura**

“Maura, is something wrong?” Mother asked.

I looked up from my plate, studying her face for a moment. The lacerations had healed nicely, and the scaring was so faint that even knowing exactly where to look, I couldn't spot it under the light layer of foundation she was wearing. I sighed, wishing I had it in me to lie. I desperately wanted to say I was fine. I desperately wanted to be fine. Mother knew better. We may not have been as close as either of us wanted when I was growing up, but I knew my mother well enough to know that she would never have asked that question if she hadn't been absolutely certain there was, in fact, something wrong. I looked around the restaurant looking for any diversion, but when none was forthcoming, I looked back at mother and answered her.

“I'm worried about Jane,” I said.

“Is she injured?” Mother asked, genuine concern written on her face.

I shook my head. “No. It's just...” I stopped, considering for a moment what Jane would want kept private. Normally, I wouldn't consider discussing any of it with anyone else, but Jane was my normal source of advice and comfort, and right now, I didn't have anyone to turn to. “Jane broke up with her boyfriend,” I said, deciding to keep things as vague as possible.

“Oh, the poor dear. Is she not taking it well?”

“I don't know, and honestly, that's what concerns me. We usually discuss matters like this, at length. Frequently while consuming large quantities of unhealthy foods and cheap alcohol. But when I attempted to broach the subject this time, she refused to go into the specifics of the breakup.”

“Oh, Maura, you mustn't take it personally. It's possible she's just in shock,” Mother said. “I remember, before I met your father, there was this boy, Gregory. I was terribly taken with him. We dated for six months, and I was absolutely convinced we were destined to be together. It was all very romantic and overwhelming. A bit like your courtship with Ian, I'd imagine. When it ended, I was absolutely devastated. I refused to talk to anyone about it. In fact, I think I had this rather absurd notion that I was the heroine in some tragic romance, destined to die alone of consumption.”

I stared at my mother for a moment, dumbfounded. I'd never heard her mention any of this before, and it was a fascinating peek at a side of her I'd never even imaged existed. “What happened?”

“Oh, three months into my planned tragic early demise by consumption, I met this devastatingly handsome new post-doc named Dr. Isles. He, of course, was instantly taken in by my beauty, wit, sophistication and charm.”

“Really?”

“Oh, heavens no. The two of us simply could not stand each other. We were at each others throats, constantly for months. If there was a single thing we didn't fight over during that time, I'm sure I have no idea what it was.”

I sat there with my mouth open, completely stunned. “But you and father never fight.”

She leaned forward, and there was a decidedly conspiratorial air to the way she looked at me. “Maura, darling, surely you've heard the term 'transference'. I assure you, that passion we have for each other has never dimmed. We simply found healthier ways to express it.” She leaned back and took a sip of her wine. “It was quite the scandal at the time, too. We'd know each other for nearly a year, and we were both attending a lecture on the impact of Colonialism on sub-Saharan African cultures. Well, during the reception afterward, I was speaking to the lecturer, and your father made some rather rude remark.”

“What did he say?”

“I don't know. To this day, I have no idea what either of us said. All I remember was that we started arguing, and we became rather loud. So loud, in fact, that the entire room was staring at us, and I think security was about to eject us.” She smiled with a wistful, happy look in her eyes. “I remember thinking how much I just wanted to shut him up, and I did the only thing I could think of. I grabbed him, and kissed him.”

I leaned forward, grinning from ear to ear, imagining the entire scene. “You didn't!”

“I did, darling. I most certainly did.”

“What was it like?”

“Oh, it was simply amazing. Your father has always been quite passionate, and that night, he was in rare form. When it was over, we were both standing there, looking at each other, and quite breathless. Then, of course, the whispering started. I was horribly embarrassed, but your father just took my hand, and led me out of the banquet hall. We spent the rest of the night together, and like a mad man, your father proposed at dawn.”

“Did you say yes?”

“No. Not that time. Or the next time. Your father was persistent though. We dated for a year, and he proposed every single morning, until I said yes.”

I smiled, delighted that my mother had shared such a happy memory with me, but it was a bittersweet feeling. I always knew, growing up, that my parents were very involved in each other, and I'd often wished that I could somehow break into the shell of their affections. I would have done anything for them to express their love for me with the same ardor they had for each other.

In a way, I'd found that in Jane. She and I were involved in each other in much the same way my parents were. The constant touching, the way we found ways to be in each others company no matter how many things were pulling us in different directions. Sitting in the cafe, listening to my mother describe the passionate nature of what she shared with my father only made it that much more painful to think that I'd never be able to close that final gap with Jane and have the tangible, physical expression of my feelings for her.

“I don't think it's shock,” I said, trying to move the conversation back onto a marginally safer topic. “She was quite specific about being the one who chose to terminate the relationship, and it would be atypical of Jane's normal behavior to end a relationship on a whim. Although, Jane actually entering into a relationship that lasts more than one or two dates is also atypical behavior. In fact, in the entire time I've known her, I'm only aware of her having reached the...” I trailed off, and stopped speaking for a moment. “I'm sorry. She probably wouldn't want me discussing that. She's quite shy about discussing her personal life with anyone other than me.”

Mother watched me for a moment, then gave a small nod. It was a gesture I was very familiar with from my childhood. One that indicated that she'd thought about a problem, reached a conclusion, and decided on a course of action.

“You're upset because Jane has shut you out, and you're not at all used to that, are you?”

I shook my head, feeling a small lump in my throat. “She lied to me about it,” I said.

Mother raised an eyebrow, a small, questioning gesture. “How can you be so sure?”

“It's Jane,” I said. “I always know when she's lying. She's really bad at it, unless it's for work.”

Mother reached across the table and covered my hand in one of her own. The gesture was both comforting, and painful. Comforting because I relished the contact with her, but painful, because I knew that without Jane's influence, she never would have done such a thing.

“People lie for all kinds of reasons, Maura. It may be that she's pleased to be out of the relationship with her beau, but the reason she wanted to leave the relationship is painful, or embarrassing, or, and I find this far more likely, she thinks you'll disapprove of her motivations. You mean a very great deal to her, and if she's already dealing with the turmoil of a failed relationship, she might simply be unable to cope with the idea of an estrangement from you.”

“I would never do that,” I said.

Mother sighed. “I know you feel that way, and I don't mean to cause you any more distress, ma chérie, but you told me yourself about the fight the two of you had following Patrick's injury. A conflict you told me you initiated, while she was trying to help you tend his injuries.”

I sat there, staring at my mother, and experienced a new appreciation for the annoyance Jane often expressed when Angela reminded her of some inconvenient bit of her own past, that conflicted with whatever sentiment she was expressing at the time. I bit down on several entirely unfair retorts that I'm sure would have earned me a high five and a 'go, Maura' from Jane, because as distasteful as I found it, what she said was true, and the truth does not stop being true simply because it makes you unhappy. On the other hand, mother did not have all the information, either.

“I think there's a bit more to it than that. I went shopping yesterday, and when I came home, Jane was curled up on the couch next to Angela. One of the reasons she gave for refusing to talk about it was that she'd discussed the entire matter with Angela, at length.”

“Well, Angela is her mother. It's natural that she would chose to confide in her.”

“Not for Jane. Her mother is usually her last choice for a confidant.”

“Why, Maura, darling. You're jealous.”

“I am not!” I insisted. She stared at me for a few moments, and I felt myself starting to blush. “I am,” I said, looking away. “Am I really that easy to read?”

“I'm your mother. I might not be the best mother-”

“You're a wonderful mother!”

She reached out and patted my hand again. “Darling, it's wonderful of you to say that, but I'm honestly surprised that you aren't breaking out in hives right now. Heaven knows, I tried, but I didn't know how to be the mother I wanted to be. Your father and I loved you so much. Every bit as much as we loved each other. But we allowed ourselves to be paralyzed by our fear of making a mistake, of hurting you, and that very fear became the mistake we were so afraid to make. But please, ma chérie, don't ever think that I didn't watch you like a hawk as you grew up. I saw every little hurt, and I wanted desperately to sooth them, to make things easier on you.” She squeezed my hand. “I'm so sorry I was never as brave as Angela.”

I felt myself tear up, and reached for my napkin to wipe my eyes.

“Besides, your emotions sit particularly close to the surface when it comes to Jane. I don't think I've ever seen you so passionate about anyone.”

“She's my best friend.”

“And a wonderful best friend. I've never had a friendship like that, aside from your father.”

I felt myself start to blush again, and looked away, but my mother went strangely silent. I could feel her eyes on me.

“Oh, dear,” she whispered.

I looked back up at her, and saw the startled expression on her face. “What is it, mother?” I suspected I already knew the answer, but I hoped I was wrong.

“Maura, do your feelings for Jane run deeper than simple friendship?”

“Of course. As I said, she's my best friend. That term indicates a special quality to the relationship, and a deeper connection than is normally felt with friends.”

“Darling, you're very good at avoiding the topic, but you haven't answered my question, and you know it.” She used her stern voice. It wasn't one I'd heard often as a child. It's not boasting to say, anomalous incidents of public nudity and tagging aside, I've been exceptionally well behaved my entire life. But on the rare occasion I did misbehave, that was the voice mother used as she disciplined me. “What is the nature of your feelings for Jane?”

I was blushing furiously, looking anywhere but at mother. “I... That is... Oh, it doesn't matter,” I finally say, my voice heavy with exasperation. “Jane self identifies as heterosexual, so any feelings I have other than friendship are meaningless.”

My mother reached forward, taking both of my hands in hers. “Look at me.”

I raised my eyes to meet hers, afraid of what she was about to say.

“Your feelings are never meaningless,” she said. “They may be unnoticed, they may be unrequited, but that makes them no less real, no less important, and I'm sorry to say, no less painful.”

I closed my eyes, and this time, I wasn't able to stop the tears. “I love her so much, mother.”

I felt her let go of my hands, and it hurt. I knew how reserved she was, and I knew I must be causing a horrible scene, but I just wanted for one moment to have my mother comfort me. Resigned, I opened my eyes, intending to apologize, but my mother was no longer in front of me. She'd moved her chair around the table, and before I could say anything, she wrapped her arms around me, giving me a hug that was more in character for Jane's mother than my own.

“I hope I'm doing this correctly,” she whispered in my ear. “I've been taking lessons from Angela.”

I laughed, the moment of humor cutting through the grief, and easing the tightness that had settled into my chest. She let go of me, and I immediately missed the contact, but instead of moving away, she picked up my napkin, and used it to dry my tears.

“Have you told her how you feel, ma chérie?”

I look at her, horrified by the very thought. “No! No, of course not. I could never do that. It would make everything awkward, and I can't... I need her. Even if it's just... I need Jane.”

I was surprised when she wrapped me in her arms again, squeezing me tighter than before, and I'm both amazed at and grateful for how demonstrative she's become.

“Don't make my mistake, Maura,” she whispered in my ear. “Don't go through life hiding how you feel from those who matter most. Ce chemin est à regretter.”

I translated the phrase automatically. 'That is the path to regret'.

I hugged my mother tightly.

“You're not going to tell her, are you?” she asked after I let go.

I shook my head. “No. Never.”

She sighed, her voice laced with sadness. “Ah, mon pauvre petit chou, why must you always do things the hard way?”

I looked down at the table, avoiding her gaze, because I had no answer for her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Jane**

“You know you left a bruise, right?” Frankie whined, rubbing his shoulder as the four of us sat down at a table in the back of the Dirty Robber.

I rolled my eyes and said, “Quit your whining. You had it coming,” when what I really wanted to do that tell him, again, how grateful I was that he'd agreed to come along for this. The whole coming out thing was getting easier with practice, but I was still nervous. I was pretty sure Frost and Korsak were gonna be okay with it, mostly because of the Randell case. Aside from Korsak being himself, neither one had seemed to have any problem with the girls at Merch.

“We waiting for the Doc to join us, Janie?” Korsak asked as he looked over the menu.

“What, you think I can't feed myself without Maura around?” I asked.

“You two aren't fighting again, are you?” Korsak asked.

I started to say something snippy, but Frost beat me to the punch. “Man, why you gotta go there?”

“What? I'm just asking is all,” Korsak said, looking back and forth from me to Frost.

“Right,” Frost said, shaking his head. “You know she's in way too good a mood to be fighting with Maura.”

“Hey!” I shouted. “I'm sitting right here.” I glared at him, because really, way to have my back, partner.

Frost pointed at me while looking at Korsak. “See, that's more how she sounds when she'd fighting with Maura.”

I decided to respond to their childishness in a reasonable, mature fashion. I turned and slugged Frankie in the shoulder again.

“Ow! What did I do?” Frankie asked

Frost and Korsak both turned to look at me.

I dragged the peanut bowl towards me and picked a couple out of it. “I can't hit these two. They could press charges.”

Frankie gave me an offended look. “I could press charges too.”

I cracked the peanut shell and smiled. “Nah. Ma would kill you.”

Frankie looked down at his menu. “Keep it up, and I'll tell Sister Winifred how long it's been since you went to mass.”

I laughed. “You do that, and I'll tell her you were the one who super glued her ruler to her desk.”

“That was you!” he protested

I turned to him giving him my best smile. “She doesn't know that.”

Frankie huffed and picked up a menu. “Fine, but from now on, you're my second favorite sister.”

I shrugged. “Tommy always did look better in a dress than I did.” Frankie and I both laughed at the shared memory. Even Korsak and Frost grinned. I could tell Frost was eager to hear the story, but he wasn't quite fast enough.

Korsak asked, “Seriously though, why isn't the doc here? She's usually around when you want to discuss personal stuff.”

I looked Korsak in the eyes. “What makes you think this isn't about work?”

Korsak dropped the menu. “If this were work, we'd talk in the Bric, like we should.” That's the thing about working with detectives. They don't miss much. Especially good ones like Frost and Korsak.

Frost nodded. “Man's got a point.”

“This gotta do with why you eighty-sixed Casey?” Korsak asked.

My jaw dropped, and I stared at Korsak stupidly for a minute, before I managed to choke out, “How'd you know about that?”

Korsak shrugged, the way he always did before explaining how he knew something he wasn't expected too. “Murray gave me a call Friday night. Said Casey was pretty drunk. Didn't know who else to call. Casey only ever comes in with you, but Murray says he figured you wouldn't be such a good choice, on account of what Casey was sayin'. Once I heard him talking, I agreed with Murray. He wasn't too happy with you, at all. I took him home and put him to bed, but the whole way, he was talking about how you dumped him for somebody else. Wouldn't even tell him who it was.”

I sighed, feeling guilty. I'd tried my best, but apparently, he'd taken it a lot harder than I thought. “Man, now I feel bad about leaving him here.”

Korsak looked at me. “You run around on him, like he was saying?”

“No!” The guilt was gone, replaced by anger and indignation.

“I didn't figure. You're not that kinda girl, Janie. I knew he must have the wrong idea.”

“Sort of,” I said.

Korsak gave me an annoyed look. “What's that supposed to mean?”

I looked from Korsak to Frost. They were both hanging on my every word, and I suddenly felt nervous again. They were my coworkers, but they were also my family. I knew they'd probably be fine with it, but my stomach was tying itself in knots, so I stalled. “It's complicated.”

Frankie snorted. “No it's not.”

I turned to him and glared as I waved my hand in Frost and Korsak's direction. “You wanna do this?”

Frankie just gave me an annoyed look. “If it would make it faster, yeah. I'd like to order lunch at some point.”

I threw up my hands and snapped, “Fine, be my guest.”

I knew I'd made a mistake as soon as the words came out of my mouth, because this was Frankie, and we'd fought often enough that I knew he'd take that as a challenge. Sure enough, before I could stop him, he turned to Frost and Korsak, and announced, in an impatient tone, “She's gay, she's got a thing for Maura, Maura doesn't feel the same way. She dumped Casey ‘cause she's not into dudes. Either of you want to split an order of nachos.”

My jaw dropped in pure disbelief. How could he just blurt it out that way? And how could he have that smug, amused smirk on his face. Jerk!

Everyone at the table was completely silent for about thirty seconds while Frost and Korsak stared at Frankie and I considered the best way to dispose of my little brother's body. Then, Korsak nodded at Frankie and looked back down at the menu. “Nachos sounds good. Extra jalapenos?”

“Sure,” Frankie said. “Chicken, steak, or cadillac?” 

Okay, seriously, I'd just come out... well, Frankie had just outed me, and the best Korsak could do was ask if Frankie wanted extra jalapenos on the Robber's crappy nachos? What the fuck?

“Wait, I'm confused,” Frost said.

Finally!

“Double steak,” Korsak said, then turned to Frost. “She's gay. Like the undercover at that bar, but for real.”

I looked at Korsak, and wished I had trouble believing he'd just said that. “Really?”

Frost shook his head, ignoring me. “No, I got that part. The part about Maura not feeling the same way.”

“Yeah,” Korsak said, turning back to the menu. “That got me, too. Which sounds better, the bacon cheese burger and fries or the fish and chips platter?”

Frost rolled his eyes. “Come on, everyone knows you're gonna get the bacon cheese burger with the bacon and ranch chili cheese fries.”

Korsak gave Frost an offended look. “I might want something different for a change.”

Frost snorted. “Yeah, right.”

I took it back. I wanted new partners. Ones that would realize that arguing over how Korsak was going to clog his arteries during my sexual identity crisis was rude. And why did everyone think I was coming out because of Maura. I turned to Frankie. “Why is it everyone goes straight to me and Maura?”

Frankie just gave me that look. The one that says, 'I know you're smarter than that, so quit being an idiot.'

I thought about it for a second, and looked away as I felt the blush creeping up my cheeks. “Okay, yeah, good point.” She turned back to Frost and Korsak. “So, we're good?”

“Of course. Why wouldn't we be?” Korsak asked.

“Yeah, we're good,” Frost said at the same time.

Because I just told you something earth shattering! Because I'd just announced I'm a different person than who I'd always claimed to be, or who I always thought I was! Because... Damn it, because I wanted this to be a big deal, because if it wasn't, it meant I'd been lying to myself and making myself miserable for twenty-plus years for no good Goddamned reason.

I wanted to yell at them, but even in the back, the Robber was a little too public, and being out to them isn't the same as being out, like, completely out, to everyone. There were still practical considerations. At least for a few more days. So, instead of ranting like I wanted too, I just asked, “Can you guys keep this on the down low for a bit longer? I haven't talked to Tommy or Maura yet, and I'd rather they not hear it through the grapevine.”

“Huh?” Korsak said. “If you haven't talked to Maura yet, how do you know she doesn't... you know.”

I looked down at the bowl of peanuts, and thought maybe the church was right, maybe it is a sign, and Korsak's stupid questions were my punishment. “We talked about it a couple of times way back,” I said. “She made it pretty clear at the time, she wasn't interested in girls in general, and definitely not me in particular.” At the time, those moments had just seemed awkward, or amusing. Once I'd realized how much I wanted Maura, it was like they'd turned into jagged pieces of glass that tore at me, every time I thought about them.

Korsak looked at me for a minute. “And did you make it clear to her at the time that you weren't interested in girls in general, and her in particular.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “I might have made a point of telling her I wasn't gay.” Those were moments I wasn't particularly proud of right then. I'd always taken pride in being honest with myself, but damn if I hadn't been in pretty deep denial.

“You sure she wasn't just telling you what she thought you wanted to hear,” he asked.

“You know Maura can't lie.”

Korsak shrugged. “Maybe not, but you and I both know she's pretty good at telling the truth in a way that implies something else entirely. Look, I'm just saying, if you gotta thing for the Doc, talk to her about it before you write her off.”

I chewed my lip as I looked at Frost. Aside from me and Ma, he and Korsak probably spent more time around Maura than anyone.

Frost held up his hands. “Don't look at me like that. I don't want to get involved. Mostly because I don't want to have to admit to actually thinking Korsak here is right for a change.”

I picked up a peanut and chucked it at his head. “Way to have my back, partner.”

He just grinned, but he, Korsak and Frankie were all looking at me, expectantly.

“Oh, fine. I'll think about it, alright?”

Korsak looked light he might argue, but the waiter showed up, distracting him. He looked up, without missing a beat, and said, “I'll have the bacon cheese burger with the bacon ranch chili cheese fries...”


	8. Chapter 8

**Maura**

I looked up from the report I was working on and forced myself to smile as Jane walked into my office, when what I really wanted to do was fall down and beg her to tell me what was going on. “Hey. You looking for the tox screen on the Martinez case?”

“Not why I came down, but I'll take it,” Jane said in a cheerful tone, but I can tell she wasn't truly feeling that cheerful. She was stressed, and was looking for some sort of release. My mind, unhelpfully, provided several ways in which I could help her relieve stress, all of which are of a sexual nature. I knew I needed a distraction for myself, before I said something that would make things uncomfortable, and my mind latched onto the first thing, other than the desire to copulate with my best friend, that it could find.

“I missed you at lunch today.” Unfortunately, that topic was no safer.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I dragged Frankie, Korsak and Frost over to the Dirty Robber for some junk food and a friendly beating or two.”

“Oh,” I said. The word sounded off in my own ears, full of the hurt I felt. She'd left me out, again. Excluded me, again. Jane looked over at me, and I could see the concern on her face at my tone. Before she could speak, I broke, and just blurted out, “Jane, did I do something to upset you?” The question sounded whiny and needed, and I was immediately embarrassed, but I couldn't take it back. I didn't really want to.

Jane looked surprised at the question. “No, Maura. Why would you think that?” I can see the concern clearly written in the micro-expressions on her face, bit I also see fear. It doesn't make any sense to me.

I decided to be honest. I know that my directness might annoy her, but I've never been good at fishing for information like she does. “You didn't want to talk to me Saturday night, but you lied about your stated reason, and today you excluded me from your lunch.”

“I didn't...” Jane stopped. I waited for her to continue, trying to be patient, but feeling little more than a sense of helplessness. After nearly a minute, Jane sighed and looked down at the floor. “You know, sometimes that face reading thing is kind of annoying.”

“You're telling the truth about that,” I said, hoping to lighten the mood. It worked. Jane laughed and looked up at me. Her smile made my breath catch, because I knew that smile. It was the smile I'd only ever seen her direct at me. The one she wore when we shared some private joke, or when I'd done something that made her happy. That was the smile she'd given me when she'd gotten off the track at racing school.

As strange as it sounds, I both loved and hate that smiled. I loved it because it makes me feel things I had difficulty understanding. When she smiled at me like that, I felt warm, I tingled, and I had mild difficulty breathing. The first time it happened, I thought I was having a heart attack. I hated that smile, because in the dark hours of the night, when I lay wake, thinking of Jane, and the relationship I truly want with her, that smile taunted me, giving me hope that maybe, just maybe, she did love me. Jane, unknowingly, teased me, taunted me, and led me on with that smile.

“I'm sorry Maur,” she said, and I could hear the pain in her voice, and see it written on her face. “I really do want to tell you what's going on. I'm just having trouble getting up the nerve, right now.”

I looked at her and tilted my head slightly, trying to imagine what could be so bad that she'd think it would make me reject her. “That-”

“Is only one of the reasons,” Jane said, cutting me off. I realized immediately that she thought I'd managed to read that she was only telling me a half truth from her face. I hadn't, but I decided to keep that information to myself.

“Just give me a couple of days. Please.” Her voice tore at me, because I could honestly tell that she was in pain, but she was only making me more nervous, more afraid, and I wanted to demand an answer. To pull the truth from her.

I didn't do it, because I could tell that whatever was going on, she felt like she needed time, and while I didn't always give Jane what she wanted, or what she said she wanted, I always, always gave Jane what she needed. “Okay. I hope you know, I don't mean to pry. I'm just confused, and I want to understand.” It's a larger admission than I intended to make, but it was true, none the less.

Jane nodded. “Are you on call this weekend?”

“No,” I said, a little frustrated at the change of subject.

“You have a date Friday night?”

For a moment, I was surprised at the question, but then I remembered I hadn't told her that Mark and I had split up. It just didn't seem important enough to mention. None of my breakups ever did, which said sad things about my relationships. “No. I broke up with Mark, and I don't plan on dating again for a while.”

“Oh. Yeah, I think Ma mentioned that. I'm sorry, Maur. I've been so caught up in my own crap, I've been neglecting you. I should have asked if you were okay.”

I felt a small surge of warmth at the apology and the sincerity behind it, but I don't want to cause her anymore distress than she's already under, either. “That's okay,” I said, and I meant it. After all, I'd hardly noticed he was gone myself. “I know you didn't like Mark.”

Jane opened her mouth to say something, but stopped, then smiled. “I suppose there's no point trying to lie about it.”

I couldn't stop myself from grinning. “No, there isn't.” I gave Jane my best 'thoughtful' look. “I've noticed something of a pattern. If I date someone, you are guaranteed to hate them.”

“Hey, I've liked some of your boyfriends!” Jane protested.

I raised an eyebrow. “Name one.”

“Well, there was... um... what about... God, Maura, you have horrible taste in men.”

She said it with such certainty, and I probably should have been offended, but instead I burst out laughing, because honestly, it was true. Jane managed to keep from laughing for about two seconds longer than I did, but when the musical sound of her laughter filled the room, it made everything else seem to disappear for a moment. We were together and laughing, and all was right with the world.

When I got my laughter under control, I tried my best to glare at Jane, but I'm sure I failed miserably. “I want to argue with you, but if I did, I'd probably break out in hives.”

Both of us started laughing again, though it didn't go on for quite so long this time.

“God, we're a pair, aren't we?” Jane said as she sat panting on the couch, trying to catch her breath.

I smiled at her. “I'd say you actually have a far superior track record when it comes to selecting potential mates.”

Jane shook her head. “I'm not so sure about that. I did sleep with Gabriel Dean.”

I made a face. The same one I sometimes made when I tried one of Angela's new recipes in the cafe. “True, and while I'm forced to agree with that being a definite low point in terms of your good judgment, I also feel bound to point out that, to the best of my knowledge, none of your exes are wanted fugitives or convicted murderers.”

“I've never dated a trauma surgeon or a face licker either,” Jane said with a smug grin.

I frowned. “I've already admitted that you have superior judgment in this regard, Jane. I see no need to belabor the point. Besides, I still maintain that Giovanni would have been perfectly acceptable for my purposes, provided he did not attempt to engage in conversation or higher cognitive processes.”

“Or want to lick your face.”

“That too.” I nodded in agreement, but I couldn't help but grin. Giovanni himself had been a horrible idea, but the memory of Jane pressed against my back, her arms around me, with her crossed hands resting right at the top of my panty line always gave me a warm feeling.

Realizing I needed a change in subject before my thoughts took me somewhere that would require a change in undergarments, I asked, “So, what did you come down here for?”

“I missed you at lunch, and wanted to hang out for a bit.”

“Really?” I smiled, the warm feeling I got anytime Jane talked about wanting to spend time with me spreading through me.

“Yeah,” Jane said. “So, what do you say, Friday night, dinner at my place?”

I immediately want to say yes, but I know that Jane enjoys her usual Friday night activities. I don't want her to give them up just because I was feeling insecure, so I asked, “Don't you want to go to the Dirty Robber for drinks?”

Jane shook her head. “I'd rather spend the evening with you. Talk things out.”

I wanted to get up, rush over to the couch where she was sitting, and kiss her for that simple statement. Unfortunately, such an action would likely give her a bit more information regarding my feelings than she'd be comfortable with. Instead, I decide to tease her. “Are you sure you aren't running a fever?”

Jane laughed. “No, Maur. I'm just tired of making the same mistakes all over again. Last time there was something going on between us, it took nearly dying to get us talking. This... Well, it may take me a little bit to get up the nerve, but I'd like to think we can manage it before I have to perform surgery on your leg.”

I stared at Jane for a minute, stunned. She was rarely so open about her feelings, and I couldn't stop myself from giving into my impulses this time. I stood up and walked over to the couch, pushing the door closed as I went. I sat down next to her, and slipped my arms around her.

“I love you,” I said. I knew it was safe to say it, because I knew she'd take it as a statement of platonic affection, even though the words meant so much more.

She wrapped her arms around me, returning the hug. “I know, Maur. I love you too. And I'm trying, I am. I just need a little time, Okay?”

I pulled back so I could look her in the eyes. “Okay, but I want you to know, there's nothing you can say that will change the way I feel about you.”

She gave me a slightly pained smile, which made me think that she didn't really believe me, but her answer was a classic deflection. “Not even if I tell you I wanted to lick your face.”

I smiled back at her. “Not even that. I would still love you, even while I was filling out the commitment papers for McLean.”

“You'd really put me in the loony bin?”

“Yes, I think I would.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N at the end of the chapter, to avoid anything spoilerish.

**Jane**

Thursday night my mouth started watering before I even got my door open. The smell of garlic and bacon had seeped out into the hallway. I smiled as I slid the key into the lock, and for about the millionth time that week, I thanked God for Ma.

“Sorry I'm late,” I said.

“It's no trouble, sweetheart,” Ma said, and for a minute, I wondered if I should check the bedroom or the hall closet for a pod, because Ma never let me off for being late. “Vince called. He said you got tied up talking to Lt. Cavanaugh.”

That explained why I was off the hook. She would have had to be mad at Cavanaugh otherwise.

“Yeah. The Mayor was getting antsy over the Donovan trial, and Cavanaugh wanted to remind me not to miss any of my witness prep sessions.”

“Sean's such a good man,” Ma said in that wistful tone of voice she always got when she was talking about Cavanaugh.

I rolled my eyes and tried not go gag at the idea of my Ma dating my Lieutenant as I put my gun and badge away in the table behind the couch. “What's for dinner?” I asked as I walked over to the kitchen, skirting around the folding table that was been set up in the living room to make room for the entire family.

“Garlic and Bacon Gnocchi di Ricotta. It's the only think I had time for.” She said it like an apology, which made me laugh. I love pretty much anything she cooks. The fact that it had bacon in it just made it better.

“Sounds great.” I looked around the apartment, noticing a conspicuous absence. “Where's Frankie?”

“I sent him out to get some cannoli . I want everything to be perfect for tonight.”

I lean in, giving Ma a quick hug. “I'm not too worried Ma,” I said, and was surprised to find that it was true. Everything was going so well. Ma, Frankie, Frost and Korsak had taken everything in stride. The past couple of days, I'd managed to spend plenty of time with Maura, and even though there was a little bit of tension there, I was feeling better than I had in months. It was like all the horrible things that had happened since the factory fire had just vanished, and we were back to being Jane and Maura again.

All of which made the idea of coming out to Tommy and Pop seem like it wasn't that big a deal.

“Can you put the garlic bread in the oven?” Ma asked.

“Sure.” I picked up the pans of bread smothered in a thick layer of garlic butter and slid them in the over, then picked up the timer and set it. I'd just put it down when Frankie opened the door. He was carrying three big boxes.

“Hey, Janie.”

“Hey Frankie. What did ya get?”

“I got Ma some of the regular cannoli, got us some of the chocolate dipped, and I got some tiramisu for Pop.”

I saw Ma stiffen out of the corner of my eye, and I turned around, resting my hand on her shoulder. “You sure you're gonna be okay having Lydia here, Ma?”

She nodded without looking up from the skillet. “I'll be fine sweetie.”

I hugged Ma again, and this time, she turned and hugged me back. “Thanks for being here.”

“You're my daughter. Of course I'm here for you.”

I turned around, and Frankie was smiling at me. He mouthed the word 'girl.' I raised my fist and shook it at him, but I couldn't help but grin back at him.

“Help your brother with the desert. Dinner should be another five minutes.”

I patted Ma on the shoulder and bent down to get a cake plate and a couple of casserole dishes out for the tiramisu and the cannoli. My phone started blaring away with 'Born to Be Bad.' I jumped, cracking my head on the top edge of the cabinet.

“Oh, fuck!”

“Janie! Watch your language.”

I looked at her as I stood up and took my phone off my belt. “Really? I give myself a skull fracture, and you're worried about an F bomb?” Before she can answer, I hit accept. “Hey Tommy.”

“Hey,” he said, and somehow, I knew exactly what he was about to say. “I'm not gonna-”

“Damn it, Tommy, don't do this.”

There was a knock on the door. Frankie went to answer it.

“Come on, it's just dinner. What's the big deal?”

I closed my eyes and pictured strangling him, because I'd always found that strangely soothing when dealing with my baby brother. “The big deal is, this is the first time we've had the whole family together since before you went to jail.”

“Oh, you just had to go there, didn't you?” he yelled, and I felt myself snap. I wanted to tell Maura. I was supposed to tell Maura the next day, in fact. But I wanted to tell my family first, because I knew if things went badly with Maura, I was going to need them. Because I couldn't stand the idea of fighting with them and Maura at the same time. Just once, I wanted Tommy to man the fuck up and act like he cared about the rest of us more than himself. To be there when I needed him.

“Damn it, Tommy, this is the second time this week you've bailed on me!”

“Yeah, because I'm trying to pay my rent. I need all the overtime I can get.”

I wanted to throw the phone, but of all the excuses he could have used, that was the only one he could have given that I shouldn't have yelled at him for, but I was a little past being reasonable. “For Christ's sake Tommy, I would have covered the hours if you'd just said something. I need you here tonight.”

“It's just a stupid dinner!” he yelled. “Why do I have to be there?” I could here it in his voice. I'd hurt him, stung his pride, and nothing got Tommy's back up faster than wounded pride. Not that I was any better about it. Not really. I let my own hurt get the better of me. I yelled right back, no longer caring about breaking it gently.

“Because I've been trying all week to tell you I'm fucking gay!”

“Jesus, Janie.” I looked up at the unexpected voice. Not Tommy. Tommy was dead silent, and I had completely forgotten the knock on the door. I'd been to involved with my argument with Tommy to notice Pop and Lydia walking in.

“Jane, you still there?” Tommy's voice. I wondered for a moment where he was, before I remembered the phone.

“I'll call you back,” I said.

“No, wait, I-” I cut him off by ending the call. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the man I'd grown up idolizing, but he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at Ma, and there was nothing but anger in his face.

“You knew about this?” he demanded.

Ma stepped up behind me, and put her hand on my shoulder. “She told me on Saturday.”

“But you knew before,” he said, and there was no doubt in his voice.

“Not for sure,” she said. “But I'd always wondered.”

I turned and looked at her, completely stunned by her admission. She just looked at me and whispered 'Later'.

“What about you?”

I turned around, looking at Pop again. He was staring at Frankie, accusing, but I honestly wasn't worried about that. I was worried because I could see the anger in Frankie's face. Frankie... Frankie wasn't like me. My anger always burned hot, ran close to the surface, and went away pretty quick. Not Frankie. Frankie didn't get angry often. He was easy going. But when he did get angry, when he wore that look, my little brother scared me.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to see it. Everything had been going so well. All week, I'd been so happy. Ma and Frankie and Korsak and Frost. The only problem I'd had was how little a problem it really was. But, suddenly, everything was falling apart.

I opened my eyes again. Ma was worried. Lydia just looked really uncomfortable. Pop was angry, but Frankie looked murderous.

“Don't. Please.” The words came out in a whisper, and I was never sure after if Frankie didn't hear them, or was just too far gone to stop.

“Of course I knew, Pop. She's my sister. Maybe if you were around once in a while, it wouldn't come as such a shock.”

Pop's face turned red. “Well, maybe if you two hadn't been so judgmental about me leaving your mother-”

“Oh, that's just great! You walk out on your wife, and we're the ones to blame.”

“I just wanted to be happy,” Pop yelled.

Frankie stepped right up to him, getting in his face. “That's all Janie wants, too. And I don't care if you are our Pop. You're not gonna walk into her place, with a girlfriend who's Tommy's age on your arm, and say one word against her for it. If you can't be happy for her, if you can't act like a father who loves his daughter, you can just get out!”

I watched Lydia flinch at Frankie's words, and I felt sorry for her. She didn’t deserve that.

“What do you know about being a father?” Pop yelled. I turned to him, feeling my heart sink even lower. Frankie never talked about what happened with Teresa and Lily, but I'd seen the picture he kept in his wallet.

He took a step forward, his chest pressed against Pop’s, their noses all but touching. “A damn site more than you, Pa. I know I would love my kid, no matter what. I know if my little girl told me she was gay, the first thing I'd do was hug her and tell her I loved her. And I know that any guy who did anything less isn't worth being called a man, much less a father.”

Pop stared at Frankie for a long time, and no one else in the room moved, afraid of breaking the spell and starting the fight we all knew was coming. Then something happened. I don't know what it was, but I could feel it. Pop seemed to shrink, almost like he was deflating. He stepped back, away from Frankie, and turned around.

“We're leaving,” he said.

“Frank, no,” Lydia said, and in that moment, I wanted to hug her.

“We're leaving,” Pop said, a little stronger this time, as he started out the door. Lydia turned and looked at me, mouthing the words 'I'm sorry' before she followed Pop out the door.

I felt Ma's hands on my shoulders, guiding me to the table. I sat down, without putting up a fight. I was too stunned. I didn't understand. How could Pop just walk out like that? How could he? Pop had always been the one on my side. He's the one who made Ma back off about the academy, the one who'd made her back off the first time I got hurt on the job. He'd never said a word against Tommy, even when Tommy had run down a priest.

My Pop. God, my Pop. Why? Why couldn't he accept it? He was the one who always said he just wanted us to be happy.

I tried to suck in a breath, but I felt like I was drowning. My chest hurt worse than when I'd shot myself. I could feel Ma holding me, feel myself shaking, hear my sobs, Frankie's voice in the background, still angry as he said Tommy's name.

It felt distant, unreal. Pop was gone. My daddy was gone. He'd left me, again, and all that was real was the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Lydia was kind of an unknown property as far as the series canon goes when this was written, and I made a guess that she wouldn't turn out to be absolutely horrible, mostly because that would just be way too cliché. I guess we all know how that turned out, but I'm not changing it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Maura**

The first thing I noticed when I walked into the apartment was that everything was out of place. The couch was pushed back against the TV and in its place was a large table I'd never seen before. It was covered with a cheap but attractive table cloth and surrounded by folding chairs. There were seven places set, as if for a formal dinner.

Tommy sat in the kitchen, a pop in his hand, staring down at the wooden counter top. Beside him, I can see the the dinner that had never made it to the serving dishes. Garlic bread on cookie sheets, some sort of pasta dish that smelled of garlic and bacon in a pan on the stove. Bottles of wine that hadn't been uncorked. Three boxes from the small Italian bakery a few blocks over.

Tommy looked up, but before he could say anything, Angela appeared at the entrance to the hallway.

“Oh, sweetie. Thank goodness you're here.”

“What's going on?” I asked the question, surprised at how angry I sounded. Angela had refused to tell me anything on the phone, other than that Jane needed me. I'd broken more than a few traffic laws getting to Jane's apartment, because it was Jane, but I was tired of this. Tired of being left out, excluded. If Jane was hurting, I wanted to know why.

“It's hard to explain, sweetie.”

“Pop's a bastard, that's what's wrong,” Tommy said. “Right now, I'm not sure I'm much better.”

Angela walked over and put a hand on Tommy's shoulder, rubbing it gently. “You're here, sweetie. Better late than... well.”

I looked back and forth between them, wanting to yell and scream and demand to be told what was going on. Instead, I asked in a polite tone, “What happened?”

Angela looked up at me. “You know Jane's been having a hard week, ever since she broke things off with Casey.”

“Yes, but she seemed to be getting better.”

Angela nodded. “She's been talking to people about it all week. Trying to get it all sorted out.”

I tried my best not to show it, but her words were like a slap to the face. She'd been talking about it all week, apparently to everyone but me. I felt sick, and the only thing that kept me from turning and leaving was my concern for Jane.

Angela must have picked up on what I was feeling though, because she stepped around the counter and pulled me into a hug. “Honey, please, I promise you, you're taking this the wrong way.”

“How am I supposed to take it?” I pulled back, extracting myself from her arms, and said what I'd been feeling all week. “How am I supposed to feel when she'll talk to everyone but me about whatever is going on?”

Angela reached out again, resting her hands on my shoulders. “She's scared. My poor baby, she's so scared. You know Janie, she's almost never scared, and she barely knows how to handle it when she is. She gets angry, she gets loud, she distracts herself, but she never admits she's afraid.”

Except to me, I wanted to add, but I kept my mouth shut. I'm been hurt by careless words so much lately, that I didn't want to do the same to Angela.

“She's been telling people something, Maura. Something she's afraid will make us hate her. I think she's been putting off telling you, because the idea of losing you is the hardest for her to bear.”

I took a moment to think about it, and in a strange, Jane kind of way, it made sense. I sighed, remembering my mother's words. Something else Jane and I had in common. We both did things the hard way.

“What happened tonight?”

Tommy answered. “It's my fault. At least, part of it.”

I looked over at him, and he seemed to shrink down in his seat.

“I'm having a hard time keeping up with my rent without a steady gig, but I've been picking up extra work from some buddies. Overnights loading freight at the trucking depot and weekend painting jobs. I told Jane I'd be here tonight, but I picked up a job at the last minute. When I called to tell her I wasn't coming, we kinda got into it over the phone, and she just blurted everything out. Except Pop had walked in while she was on the phone.”

“He didn't take it well?” I asked, stating the obvious.

“He got mad,” Angela said.

“He and Jane fought?”

Angela shook her head. “No. Frankie... I've never seen Frankie get so mad. He got right up in Frank's face, and told him he didn't deserve to be called a man, much less a father.” She looked down at the floor, and I could see a blush rise in her cheeks. “I know I should be horrified that he talked that way to his father, but honestly, I'm so proud of the way he stood up for his sister.”

I made a note to do something nice for Frankie. Celtic season tickets, maybe. I'd have to ask Jane where the best seats were located.

Angela wasn't done, and when she started talking again, it distracted me from thoughts of ways to thank her son. “I thought they were going to hit each other. I think Frankie wanted Frank to throw a punch, but Frank just left. Didn't say a word to Jane. Just took Lydia and stormed out. And you know how much Janie loves her father. Even after everything, she loves him, and when he left...”

I did know. Jane hardly ever talked about it, but when she did, I could tell how hurt she was by the way her father had abandoned the family. “Where is she now?”

Angela pointed to the bedroom. “She's in bed. Frankie's sitting with her.”

I nodded, and headed for the bedroom, not entirely sure what to expect. What I found just about broke my heart. For the second time in a week, I found Jane curled up, with her head tucked into someone's lap. Frankie sat there, gently stroking his sister's hair, but the look on his face was downright frightening. He was staring out the window with a look of absolute rage on her face.

“Hey,” I said, just loud enough for him to hear me.

He jumped a little, and wrapped a protective arm around Jane as he turned towards me. For a moment, the rage was replaced with relief. He smiled at me, his whole body relaxing.

“Thanks for coming, Doc.”

“Of course,” I said.

He looked at me for a minute, and I could see the turmoil on his face. I wasn't sure what inner struggle he was having, but I didn't have to wait long to find out.

“I wish I could just tell you and get it over with,” he said.

“I-”

“No,” he said, and there was finality in his voice. “Don't ask, because I won't do that to her. However much I might want to, I won't. I just want you to understand something.”

“What?” I asked, not entirely sure I wanted to here it.

“Growing up, Janie always took care of us, in all the ways Ma and Pop couldn't. Taught me and Tommy to fight, so we didn't have to worry about the neighborhood bullies. Taught us to stand up for ourselves, for people who needed help, for what we thought was right. Took the punishment for most of the stuff Me and Tommy did growing up. Got us out of the house whenever there was a fight brewing between Ma and Pop, and never, ever let them pull us into it.”

“I've seen Janie hurt. Broken heart, broken bones... Hoyt, shot through the gut. 'Til tonight, I ain't never seen my sister broken.”

He stopped, and I could see the pain on his face, and a shadow of the rage. I knew he was fighting to get it back under control, and I tried my best to be patient while I waited him out.

“Thing is, Janie, she always loved Pop. I mean, she loves all of us, but growing up, she thought Pop hung the moon, and it was pretty clear, she was Pop's favorite. Him walking out on us hurt, but she took it, because she had to be strong for Ma, but that was different. I think she told herself it was about Ma. But tonight, Pop didn't walk out on Ma, or Tommy, or me. Tonight, Pop walked out on her.”

He looked down at her, and his voice dropped in volume, until it was barely more than a whisper. “In a minute, I'm gonna wake her up and leave her with you. I'm gonna shoo Ma and Tommy out, so you two can have some privacy. I just wanna be clear, before I do.”

He looked back up at me. “You're the only person I've ever known Janie to love more than Pop. That means you're the only one left who can hurt her that bad. I'm trusting you not to, which ain't easy right now, so just... When she tells you what she's gonna tell you, remember that she loves you, and your opinion of her probably matters more than the rest of us put together.”

Before I could say anything, he gave Jane a little shake. She shifted, curling in on herself. “Five more minutes.”

He shook her again. “Maura's here.”

Jane opened her eyes and looked up at me, and the look in her eyes made me want to cry. There was so much hurt in her eyes. She shifted, moving away from Frankie, so he could get up. He gave her one last pat on the shoulder, and stood up.

“I'll make sure Ma and Tommy clean up before they leave,” he said.

“Tommy's here?” she asked, surprised.

“Yeah. He showed up about a half hour after...” He didn't finish, but Jane nodded.

“Is he...?” she stopped, glancing at me.

“He's cool with it. He came by to apologize, and when he found out about Pop... He's taking that kinda hard. Feels like it's his fault.”

“Tell him it's not, and that I'm not mad.”

I forced myself to keep smiling through the entire exchange, trying not to get upset at the way they were talking around me. It was frustrating, and under other circumstances, I might have gotten angry about it, but on this occasion, I did my best not to let it get to me.

Frankie nodded and as he walked by me, he looked me in the eye and gave me a pat on the shoulder.

“Give her time,” he whispered.

I nodded, then walked over to the bed. I kicked off my shoes and sat down in the spot Frankie had vacated. I gave my lap a little pat, and Jane looked at me, hesitating. I could see how nervous she was.

“It's okay. I'm here for you. You don't have to tell me anything unless you want to.”

I could see her relax, and she scooted closer, resting her head in my lap. I reached down, gently stroking her hair with my left hand as I opened my purse with my right, and took out my phone. Jane looked up at me, curiosity written on her face, but I just smiled down at her.

“I'm being bossy,” I said as I thumbed through my contact list to find Lt. Cavanaugh. Jane raised an eyebrow. I hit send.

“Cavanaugh.”

“This is Doctor Isles.”

“Everything okay, Doctor?”

“Not at the moment, but it's nothing too severe. I'm calling to let you know that Detective Rizzoli will be taking a personal day tomorrow.” Jane started to sit up and protest, but I just shoved her head back down into my lap, and covered her mouth with my hand.

He laughed. “She's got you calling in sick for her now, Doc?”

“No. I'm doing this without her permission. You know how stubborn Jane is. She would try to walk out of ICU with a self inflicted gun shot wound to go to work.”

He laughed again. “Don't remind me. I still get shit from Mass General about that.”

I couldn't help but smile. As painful as most of those memories were, Jane under the influence of morphine had been highly amusing. “Well, Lieutenant, in my professional opinion, Detective Rizzoli is currently in no condition to do police work. I believe you can expect her back in the office on Monday.”

“What are you gonna do, Doc? Sit on her to keep her home?”

“If it comes to that. I'm going to arrange for either Doctor Baxter or Doctor Pike to cover the remainder of my on call rotation.”

“Baxter, please. If I have to listen to one more detective bitch about wanting to shoot Pike, I may do it myself.”

I grinned, trying not to laugh. “I'll do my best...”

“Take care of my detective, Doc. Hell, see if you can talk her into taking an actual vacation. It might get HR off my ass about how much time the homicide unit has piled up.”

“I'll do my best, Lieutenant, but as a scientist, I'm afraid I don't believe in miracles. Good night.”

“Night, Doc.”

I ended the call and leaned back against the headboard, paging through my contact list again, looking for Baxter's number. After a moment, something wet and rough slid across the inside of my palm, and I jumped in shock, pulling my hand away from Jane's mouth.

Jane stared up at me, an annoyed smirk on her face.

“You licked me!” I looked down at my hand, then back at Jane.

“You just lied to Cavanaugh,” she said.

“I did not,” I said. “You're in no condition to do any sort of police work.”

“Maura-”

“You're barefoot.”

Jane looked down at her feet, and I watched as she opened her mouth to say something, then stopped, then did it again four more times. She finally seemed to settle on something to say and looked up at me.

“I could put my boots back on.”

“I know that, but Lieutenant Cavanaugh doesn't” I said, and hit the send button. “Doctor Baxter, this is Doctor Isles...” The conversation was quick, and in less than two minutes, Doctor Baxter had agreed to cover the rest of my on call rotation, as well as my shift tomorrow. Once I was finished talking to her, I put in a quick call to dispatch, and informed them of the change to both my and Jane's schedule.

Jane lay quietly as I made the called, and as I sent texts to Korsak and Frost, letting them know that Jane wouldn't be in tomorrow, and to ask Angela in the morning if they wanted details. Then I sat my phone aside.

“I still can't believe you licked my hand,” I said.

Jane grinned up at me. “Gonna send me to the loony bin?”

I considered her question for a moment. “Well, it wasn't my face, so perhaps outpatient treatment would be acceptable.”

She laughed, and scooted a little closer to me. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For being here,” she said. “I know you must have better things to do with your night than take care of a complete basket case.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I can't think of anything better than being with you.”

She reached up, placing her left hand on my thigh, just below where her head was resting. I bit my lip, trying to ignore the way my body responded to the touch, which was entirely inappropriate for an interaction between best friends. Especially since Jane was in too much emotional pain to realize what she was doing. I closed my eyes, taking several deep breaths, using the centering techniques I'd learned in yoga to try to calm myself down. It wasn't especially effective, and I knew I needed something to distract me.

“There's no pressure, but if you'd like to talk about what happened, I'm here.”

Jane didn't respond immediately, and for a while, we simply sat in silence, my hand stroking her hair. I was beginning to think she'd fallen asleep, when she finally spoke.

“Ma used to do this for me, when I was a kid. When I was tired, or upset, she'd sit down on the couch, and I'd lay next to her, with my head in her lap. She'd pet my hair while I watched the Sox, the Celtics, the Patriots, the Bruins. It was simple, ya know? I never really thought about it, never realized how much it meant to me.”

“She loves you.”

Jane nodded. “I know. It's just... Pop. I think I thought Pop was a god. Ma wanted me to wear dresses and play with dolls and have tea parties with my teddy bears. We'd argue, a lot. Then Pop would come home, and he'd take me out to the park to play catch, or teach me how to hit, or throw a football. It was like he didn't care I was a girl. He treated me the way I wanted to be treated. Taught me how to do all the things I loved. He's the one who made Ma let me sign up for softball, football, hockey and basketball. And he worked so much to make sure all of us had stuff. Gloves, pads, Jerseys, sticks, bats. At least, that's what I thought.”

I listened, trying to hold back my own tears as I imagined her childhood. The kind I'd always dreamed of. So many wonderful memories, with the love on display for all to see.

“Now, I wonder if he worked so much to get away from us.”

I felt tears running down my cheeks, and a tightness in my chest. I hurt. I hurt because Jane hurt and I couldn't stop it. I hurt because I knew that this was tainting a lifetime of happy memories that meant more to Jane that she'd ever admit.

“Don't think that, Jane.”

“I can't help it. He just left. For a whole year, he was just gone. Then he comes back, wants to say he and Ma were never married, that we're all bastards. Then, tonight... It was awful Maura. He didn't even try to speak to me. And the way he and Frankie fought, I don't think they'll ever speak to each other again.” Her hand tightened its grip on my thigh. “I lost Pop, and I took him away from Frankie too.”

“You did no such thing,” I said in my firmest voice. “You are a wonderful, amazing, caring, beautiful, brave woman. I don't know what you told him, and I honestly don't care. You deserve better than the way he treated you.”

“I-”

“I'm not done.”

She turned and looked up at me, surprise written on her face, plain as day.

“Frankie made his own decision. You didn't force him to argue with your father. You didn't even ask him to protect you. He did it because he loves you, because he wants to protect you, the same way you protect him. Frankie chose you over your father. If anyone is to blame, it's your father, for making it a choice in the first place.”

I watched her. Tears were welling up in her eyes. I reached down and brushed them away. I wanted to help, so much, and I thought about everything that had happened, and what everyone had said to me, and then, much as I loathed to, I made a guess as to what could make it better.

“Your mother, Frankie, Tommy, Vince, Barry. They're all still here because they love you. And whatever it is, once you tell me, I'll still be here too, because I love you, no matter what. I won't stop, and I won't leave you.”

If the look on Jane's face was anything to go by, maybe guessing wasn't so bad, after all.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The black outfit Jane daydreams about is Maura's outfit from the first crime scene in 1x01. The blue dress she mentions is from 1x08.

**Jane**

Nothing was going the way I'd planned it. I wasn't supposed to spend most of the day Friday going back and forth between laughing at Maura's attempts to cheer me up, and wanting to cry at the thought of never seeing Pop again. Tommy wasn't supposed to stop in a little past noon and spend forty-five minutes apologizing, until I finally had to threaten to violate his parole for criminal trespass to get him to leave. Maura wasn't supposed to have to rush back to Beacon Hill for a change of clothes, and dinner was definitely not supposed to be pizza and the left over cannoli from the night before.

I wanted that night to be... God, I don't know. I knew it wasn't a date, but it felt like one. Not like two friends sitting down for a discussion about how badly one of them was messed up and what she was trying do to get herself straightened out.

Okay, really bad choice of words there.

I sat at the counter waiting on Maura to get back and for the pizza delivery guy to show up, and stared at my crappy little apartment. For the first time ever, I resented being a cop. Resented being a blue color, working class, blunt, uneducated, bitchy girl. I resented Korsak even more for suggesting I might be wrong about how Maura felt, because I wanted so badly to believe him and I knew that was only going to make it worse when Maura told me, again, that she didn't want me.

That night was supposed to be about me coming clean with my best friend. It was supposed to be about being honest with myself, so I didn't have to go through another Joe Grant, or Gabriel Dean, or Casey Jones. It was supposed to be about clearing the air, so I could put this stupid, hopeless crush behind me, and try to find someone who would make me happy instead of someone I would end up resenting and wanting to avoid. And most of all, it was supposed to be about doing whatever it took to not fuck up my friendship with Maura.

Instead, I'd spent half the day sitting on the couch while Maura held me, and daydreaming about her professing her undying love the moment I told her the truth, and the other half wanting to cry while I imagined her and Pop sitting down together and talking about how horrible it was that I'd decided to be a big old diesel dyke.

I frowned and pulled my computer over so I could google 'diesel dyke' and find out what it meant. Ten minutes later, I slammed it shut with a groan, unable to make up my mind whether I was a Chapstick Lesbian, or a Soft Butch, and wondered why the definitions had to be so fuzzy. Why couldn't there be a form with check boxes?

Maura would definitely be a lipstick power lesbian.

No. Fuck that. Maura would be lipstick power dyke.

God, that was so much better. Just saying it that way made me squirm a little, as I pictured Maura in the black suit she always wore with the black hose, leather knee boots and the black blouse with the sheer shoulder panels.

I leaned forward, banging my head on the counter. Maura wasn't interested in me, and I needed to get the delusion that this was going to have a happy ending out of my head. Fantasizing about Maura in a power suit and crime scene gloves was not the way to do that. Neither was fantasizing about her in the that low cut blue dress, siting on my couch, holding my Glock and asking if she looked bad ass.

I nearly fell off the stool when someone knocked on the door. I caught myself just in time, and managed to get my feet under me, but my heart was hammering in my chest. I walked over the to door blushing and feeling guilty about mentally ogling my best friend. It was just the pizza guy, and I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

I paid for the pizza, then sat back down and went back to my panic attack. It was hard to believe that just a day before, I was happy. That I really believed everything would be okay. I should have known better. Every disaster in my life hit just when I thought things were going well. I made detective, then got shoved into DCU and spend a year pretending to be a hooker. I made homicide, then got staked to the floor by Hoyt. Frost had finally stopped puking at the sight of dead bodies and Korsak had forgiven me for asking for a transfer, then Marino and his crew had hit headquarters. I recovered from that, had a Skype boyfriend and Gabriel Dean walks back into my life, fucks up a sting and nearly costs me my best friend.

The tightness in my chest was back, and I was starting to have trouble breathing again when the door opened, and Maura walked in.

She was smiling, carrying an overnight bag in one hand, and a cooler in the other. “Sorry I took so long. I swung by the Beer Works on Canal Street for a six pack. I know you usually like light pale lagers, but they had a Pilsner that sounded wonderful, and I thought you could use a treat.”

I tried to smile back at her, but I couldn't manage it. Of course, being Maura, she noticed, because God forbid, I be able to hide how nervous I was. She sat her overnight bag down by the door, then walked over, dropped the cooler on the counter before she reached up and rested a hand on my back.

“It's okay, Jane. I promise you, I'm not going anywhere.”

I closed my eyes and nodded, wanting more than anything to believe her, but I kept hearing Pop, over and over again. 'We're leaving.' God, I hated him right then, for making this harder than it had to be, for bringing back the fear I'd almost gotten over.

Maura pulled me up, and led me around the counter. “Sit.”

I sat down, wondering why she was being picky about where I sat, but she didn't say anything else. She just went over and opened one of the drawers and grabbed the bottle opener, then got a couple of plates out of the cabinet, before coming back. I watched in silence as she took out a couple of beers, opened them and plated up the pizza. Then, she pulled the stool that was on the kitchen side of the counter around so she could sit next to me. She slipped her left hand into my right, interlacing our fingers, and smiled at me as she picked up a slice of pizza.

It was such a simple little gesture, but it reminded me again of why I loved Maura. It had nothing to do with the fact that she was beautiful, or that she had the rack of god, or legs to die for, or amazing fashion sense, or a beautiful house, or a big screen TV, or a penchant for randomly buying me Sox tickets, and everything to do with that fact that she took care of me. Even when I didn't want her to, even when I bitched about it, and made it a pain in the ass, Maura always took care of me.

“I love you.” The words just spilled out. Normally, I'd be embarrassed. I mean, it wasn't the first time I'd told Maura I loved her, it was just the first time I'd ever said it without her saying it first, because I'm a big, bad ass detective, and I don't do mushy stuff.

She looked at me and smiled, but I was sure there was just a little bit of sadness in that smile, and I didn't understand why. “I love you, too.” She gave my hand a squeeze as she said it.

I picked up a slice of pizza and took a bite, chewing slowly. I could do this. This was Maura. She loved me. She'd promised me, over and over again, that it wouldn't make a difference. That she'd still be my friend.

God, that was part of what I was afraid of. That it wouldn't make a difference. That's she'd just go on being my friend, because God fucking damn Korsak for giving me hope, because even though I knew it was coming, I was going to get my heart broken.

I took a deep breath, telling myself to get it over with. Like pulling off a band-aid. Faster is better. I took another deep breath as Maura reached for her beer.

“I'm gay.”

If I hadn't been so tense, the sight of Maura Isles doing a spit take would have made me laugh so hard I'd have peed my pants.

We both sat there for a minute in silence. I stared at her, while she stared into space, either ignoring or oblivious to the beer dripping from her nose and chin. Finally, she sat the beer down and reached for a napkin. I could see her hand shaking. I wasn't sure of what to make of that, but she hadn't let go of my hand, either. She hadn't run away.

I waited until she finished wiping off her face. “Say something,” I begged. “Please?”

She turned and looked at me, and I flinched. She looked absolutely crushed.

“Is that what all this has been about?” she asked.

I nodded, waiting for the rejection. Kicking myself again for believing things would be okay, and wondering if I could get a gun out of evidence to shoot Korsak with, or if I should just man up and shoot him with my service weapon in the middle of the bullpen. Hell, life in a women's prison might improve my dating prospects.

She looked down, like she couldn't look me in the eyes. I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing it was coming.

“Who is she?”

What? I opened my eyes, looking at Maura, trying to understand the dejection in her voice, trying to figure out what she was talking about. “What?”

“Your girl-” she stopped, her voice catching, and I could see tears starting to pool in her eyes. “Who is she?”

I shook my head, realizing what she was thinking. “No. Maura, no. There's no girl. There's no one.”

She looked up at me. “But why? Why would you put yourself through all this if there wasn't someone?”

I turned on the stool and reached over to take her free hand in mine, then turned her so we sat facing each other. “You know Casey's the first guy I've really dated since I made detective, right.”

She nodded.

“It's hard to explain, Maur. It's just, the more I did with Casey, the more I realized that I wanted to be doing those things with...” I stopped and looked down, taking a deep breath. I was about to lay everything bare. Her reaction, strange as it was, was fanning that stupid little spark of hope. “I'm not telling you this because I expect anything, Maura. I know you said I wasn't your type, and I know you don't want to sleep with me. I just... I can't help it.”

“Every time I went on a date with Casey, I kept thinking how much better it would be with you there, and pretty soon, it wasn't just the dinners and the movies. We'd curl up on the couch to cuddle, and I hated it because he smelled like some cheap aftershave instead of Ton Savon shower gel, and he'd kiss me and it was just wrong because it didn't taste like that cheap off brand raspberry lip gloss you put on over top of your fifty-five dollar per tube La Praire lipstick when you think no one is looking.”

“Then, he started talking about these classes they have at the rehab center on how to... you know, with a spinal injury, and I realized, I couldn't do it. I couldn't be with him, because what I really wanted was to be with you. And once that I got past that, everything started making sense. Why I could never manage a relationship that lasted more than six months, why I'd only had sex once since I made detective, why almost every date I had in the two years before Casey ended with me falling asleep half drunk on your couch while we watch some god awful documentary on TLC and you rub my feet, and why I've hated every guy you've so much as looked at for the last three years.”

“There's no one else, Maura, because I'm pathetically, stupidly, hopelessly in love with you. I know you don't feel the same way, but I realized that if I ever want to find someone who makes me feel even a little bit like I do when I'm with you, it's not going to be a guy, and I just can't pretend it will be. No matter what anyone thinks of me, I can't live like that.”

I sat there in silence, waiting for her reaction, but it didn't come. After a minute, I looked up. There were tears streaming down Maura's face, but she was smiling wider than I think I'd ever seen her smile before.

She let go of my hands, and before I could do anything, she grabbed my head. “You wonderful, beautiful, stupid, woman,” she said.

Then she kissed me, and it was probably horrible, because we both tasted of greasy pizza and beer and tears, and she tasted of cheap store brand raspberry lip gloss and I'm sure I tasted of the stale pretzels I'd been eating all day, and our noses got in the way, and it was the single most perfect kiss of my life, because it was Maura.

It was the first time Maura kissed me.

“What are you doing?” I asked when it was over, and I immediately kicked myself. She was kissing me, and I was asking stupid questions, when I should have just shut up on the off chance that she'd lost her mind and would do it again.

“I would think, by now, you'd recognize a kiss when someone gives you one, Jane.” She said it in a teasing voice, and it just proved I was right, and should really shut up.

She leaned in and kissed me again, and God, it was even better than the first time. By the time it was over, I was having trouble breathing for an entirely different reason than anxiety.

“You said I wasn't your type,” I managed to mumble.

She pulled back and smiled. “You're not.”

“Then why-”

She shut me up by the single most expedient method possible. She kissed me again.

“My type is easy, shallow and disposable. The kind of people I know I won't get attached to, so it won't hurt when they leave me.” She kissed me again, and God, I wished it would last forever. “You are more difficult than Fermat's last theorem, as fathomless as Challenger Deep, and more essential to my happiness than serotonin, and if you ever left me, I think I'd die from the pain.”

I wanted more than anything to just shut up, to let her spend hours explaining how she felt about me in google speak, to do whatever she wanted. This was everything I'd hope for and dreamed of, but I couldn't. I there was one thing I had to know. One more question I had to ask.

“What about Ian? I love you Maura, and I want this, so bad, but I don't what to be your second choice. I don't want to be your distraction while you wait on him.”

She gave me another teary smile as she reached down and took my hands in hers. She lifted them up, placing a kiss on the knuckles of each hand. “I made that choice years ago. Every time he leaves, he asks me to go with him, and every time I tell him no. He's never going to be a part of my life, and as horrible as it is, I was just holding on to him, until I found something better. Until I found you.” She kissed my hands again. “All my life, I could have anything I wanted, but for years, the only thing I've wanted was you.”

“Why didn't you say something?”

“I didn't think you'd listen.”

I took my hands out of hers and reached up, wiping the tears off her face. “You're probably right. Someone pretty smart told me I was stupid.”

She laughed, and I leaned forward, kissing her again. The real thing was so much better than I'd imagined.

“I'm listening now,” I said.

She looked into my eyes, and I felt my heart melting. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I said, and after that, we didn't talk for a while.


	12. Chapter 12

**Maura**

It was early Saturday morning. Sunlight streamed in through the window, Jo Friday was curled up at the foot of the bed, cheerfully napping after her morning walk, and Jane was curled up next to me, sleeping peacefully, with the corners of her mouth turned up in a faint smile, while I sat with my back propped up against the headboard of Jane's bed, stroking her hair.

I couldn't have imagined a more perfect moment if I'd tried.

I had Jane. Really, finally, truly had Jane. She loved me, I loved her, and even if we hadn't made love, had not, in fact, gotten past what Jane had called 'second base', the hours we'd spent holding, touching and kissing had done more to satisfy me that all of the lovers I'd had in the last few years combined.

It reminded me of the first few months with Ian, when I was still naive enough to believe it would last. But even that was a pale shadow. He and I were never connected the way Jane and I were. There was no long, and sometimes hard fought friendship, nothing built on bones we'd unintentionally broken, only to carefully nurse until they healed, stronger than before. Jane and I had spent years crawling so deep inside each others lives neither of us could tell where one of us began and the other ended.

I'd once told Jane that I'd been so in love with Garrett Fairfield that it felt like I'd taken a substance, and Ian had been the same, only more so. This felt entirely different. Jane wasn't a substance, she wasn't a quick high that would fade. She was fresh air, clean water and sunshine. Beauty and power and life.

I'm not one given to romantic notions, but that morning I couldn't help myself. Jane felt like forever. She had for so long, and we'd finally taken that last little step, the one I'd wanted so much, and been so convinced would never happen.

I was so proud, so indescribably proud of her for what she'd done. She'd faced up to something about herself that scared her. Risked everything that mattered to her. Her family, her friends, her ability to do her job. And she'd done it all, not because she expected a happy ending, not because she knew I'd be waiting for her at the end, but simply because it was the honest thing to do. Because it was the right thing to do for herself.

I was ashamed to admit how badly I'd underestimated her, doubted her bravery. I'd spent so long thinking she would never be able to face up to what she wanted that I'd almost talked myself out of the possibility of being with her.

I was also surprised to find that I'd misjudged what she'd be like in bed. I'd expected her to be fierce, and aggressive, perhaps because of her assurance that she'd be 'the guy' in a relationship with a woman, or maybe because she was so strong and bold in every other area of her life. What I'd found last night was a tender, somewhat shy lover. At times, she'd touched me so carefully I had wanted to promise her I wouldn't break, but I'd been too afraid of scaring her, or making her feel inadequate when the truth was that I'd wanted every kiss, every touch to go on forever.

Just sitting there with her, I felt overwhelmed by how lucky I was, and by how close I'd come to missing out. But I also felt slightly embarrassed and woefully unprepared. Jane was the first woman I'd ever really considered a relationship with, and I'd so thoroughly dismissed the idea that she'd ever be willing to be with me, that I'd ever bothered looking into the mechanics of the issue.

Of course, as a doctor, I was familiar with all the details of the human body, and as a woman, I had plenty of experience with what I personally found pleasing, but while I was sure I could please Jane, I'd never been one to settle for being adequate when I wanted to be exceptional. Fortunately, a lack of knowledge was something easily rectified.

I leaned over and fished my iPad out of my overnight bag and started making a list of appropriate reference titles on Amazon. If they were available, I went ahead and purchased electronic copies as well. The list quickly grew beyond just books on technique however. I added books on coming out, including several written specifically for parents dealing with their children coming out to them. Some of the titles also suggested certain accessories which might prove useful, and I spent some time researching to make sure I picked the highest quality items available.

I was just finishing up when a muffled groan let me know Jane was waking up.

“What time is it?”

“A little before eight.”

“In the morning?” Jane grumbled, looking up at me. “What are you doing up this early?”

“I'm putting together a shopping list.”

Jane gave me a look that I'd learned translated roughly as 'I can't believe those words just came out of your mouth'. “Really? Maura, we are not going shopping today.”

I smiled at her. “Of course we aren't. I'm sending the list to my personal concierge.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “Your what?”

“Personal concierge. I found a service after the last time I had to arrange a formal dinner on short notice. They do all sorts of things. Meal planning, booking personal chefs, event tickets, travel arrangements, moving, cleaning, or in this case, shopping.”

Jane sat up. “You pay someone to shop for you?”

“Yes.”

“Doesn't that take all the fun out of it?”

“Normally, yes, but I'd rather spend the day with you.”

Jane's face lit up. “I think that might be the sweetest thing you've ever said to me.”

I laughed and gave her shoulder a gentle shove. “Even better than 'I love you'?”

She grinned. “Come on, Maur. Anyone can say I love you, but you giving up an afternoon of shopping to spend time with me... It would be hard to find a jury who wouldn't take that as proof.”

I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “You're terrible.”

“On the cheek? Really?”

I raised an eyebrow, grinning at her. “You want me to do better, go brush your teeth. I know what kind of morning breath you get after pizza.”

She laughed and got out of bed. “Oh, I see how it's gonna be. You know, some people wouldn't put up with your abuse.”

I laughed again, as I sat back and started composing the email to the concierge service. I was still adding a couple of bottles of wine to the list when Jane came strolling back into the bedroom, with a mischievous grin on her face.

“So, this shopping list. Does it have any lingerie on it?”

I looked up at her as I thought about it. “No, but that's a good idea. I'll add your sizes to the email, and have them bring by a selection from La Perla and Claire Pettibone.”

“But... I...”

“I don't like the athletic look, Jane.”

“Fine. Maybe I won't...” her face fell. “Oh, no. That's not going to work, is it?”

“What?”

“If I cut you off, that means I won't get any sex either.”

I couldn't stop myself from laughing. “You're just figuring that out?”

She sat down on the bed, sulking. “I never cared that much before.”

“Awww, Poor Jane.” I leaned over and gave her the kiss I'd promised earlier. “Better?”

She smiled as she started scooting towards me on the bed. “Much.” Without warning, she snatched the iPad out of my hands. “Now, let's see what's so impor- Oh, my God!”

“What?”

“You're paying someone to go out and buy...” Her face started to turn red. It was so cute, I couldn't help but tease her a little.

“Non-biological phallus shaped objects containing unbalanced battery powered electric motors?”

“God, Maura, you couldn't just say vibrating dildo, could you?”

“I suppose I could. That is, after all, the popular term for it.”

Jane really was just adorable when she blushed.

She looked down at the list. “Okay, but how many do you need?”

“I wasn't sure which one you would like.” She looked up at me, and I was surprised to see real distress on her face. “Jane, what's wrong?”

“I don't know how to... I mean, I've never been with a woman before, Maur. I don't want you to be disappointed, and all this stuff...”

I took the iPad away from her and took her hands in mine. “Jane, all of that stuff is because I want to make you happy. I'm as new to this as you are. In fact, I spent most of the morning doing research on how this works. I'm just as worried about being a disappointment as you, and some of what I read recommended those as a way to enhance the experience. I know how shy you can be about asking for things, and I just thought it would make it easier for you if it was available without you having to ask.”

She smiled at me again, and I thought my insides were going to melt. “You really are amazing, you know that?” she asked. She glanced over at the iPad. “Can I ask a question.”

“Of course.”

“Why not just order all that stuff online?”

“Oh, the store is in Brooklyn, off Harvard Street. If I send the request in this morning, we could have everything on the list by six.”

“Wow. You know, I could get used to having a rich girlfriend.”

I smiled at her. “Should I send the list?”

She glanced over at the iPad for a minute, then looked at me. “It may all end up just sitting in a box somewhere my mother will never find it.”

“If it does, I'm perfectly fine with that.” I reached up and brushed her hair out of her face, before I leaned in for a kiss. “This is about us, and whatever makes us happy.” I kissed her again. “We need to go over to my place today anyway. I'll have it delivered there. Your mother knows better than to go into my closet again after the shoebox incident.”

“Can't we just stay in bed all day?”

I smiled as I leaned in to nibble on her neck. “You're the one who wanted to tell your mother about us.”

She rolled her head back, moaning softly. “I could send a text.”

I laughed as I reached up, cupping her left breast in my right hand. “You could,” I said, nibbling on her earlobe, “but your bathtub isn't big enough for two. Mine is.”

She let out a soft whimper. “I'll get my keys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I went there. Why? Because this is Maura Isles. The woman who wears a speed suit to play softball. Of course she would be shopping for 'accessories' the next morning. Jane's just lucky they don't make silk 'Out and Proud' blouses, or cashmere 'Here and Queer' sweatshirts.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3x07 is not the way I expected them to go with Lydia, but I already had this plotted out, so I'm leaving it as is.

**Jane**

I was wrong. I'm not a soft butch, or a chapstick lesbian. I was pretty sure I needed a whole new term for what I was, and the best I could come up with was mallomar dyke. A dark, hard shell surrounding a big lump of soft, gooey marshmallow. It wasn't perfect, but I couldn't find a word to describe porcupine skin stretched over whipped cream.

And I was whipped. God, was I whipped.

It was 9:30 AM Sunday morning, and I, Jane Clementine Rizzoli, had been awake for two hours, and was sitting at the table in Maura's house, wearing a silk robe that cost more than I paid for rent in a month, over an honest to God negligee (that cost more than my Glock), with the stupidest school girl grin on my face while shopping for engagement rings for Maura, whom I had officially been dating for a day and a half.

Oh, I wasn't going to buy one that morning, at least that's what I kept telling myself, but I didn't even bother to switch tabs to the Bruins website when Ma walked in through the back door. Instead, I just looked up, smiled, and said, “Morning, Ma,” before I went back to my cheerful little afterglow daydream.

“Good morning,” Ma said. She had a knowing smirk on her face, but even that couldn't dent the power of the Maura afterglow.

God, so, so whipped.

“Where's Maura?” she asked.

“Taking a shower,” I said as I clicked on an article about how to determine a woman's ring size without her finding out. I wasn't buying a ring that morning, but it never hurt to plan ahead.

“Well?”

I looked up from the article. “Well, what?”

“Why aren't you up there with her?”

I think I heard my jaw hit the table as it dropped. “Really, Ma? Really?”

She just raised an eyebrow.

“Fine, she made me shower first. Something about running out of hot water in the middle spoiling the mood.” I looked back down at my computer. “I'm getting her a tankless water heater for Christmas.”

Ma laughed, and so did I.

“I'm happy for you, Janie.”

I looked back up at her, and was half tempted to get up and hug her. “Thanks, Ma.”

“How about I make you girls breakfast? You need to keep your energy up, after all.”

I rolled my eyes at her, but my heart wasn't in it. I was way too happy. “How about pancakes?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Maura said from the hallway.

I looked over at her, and could feel the stupid grin getting bigger. I closed my computer and got up, walked over to her, slipped my arms around her and kissed her good morning for about the hundredth time since we woke up.

“Oh, you two make such a cute couple!” Ma gushed.

I turned to look at her. “Ma, please, I'm trying to make out with my girlfriend here.”

“Jane, be nice. Your mother has offered to let us sit on the couch and snuggle while she cooks.”

“You should listen to her, babe,” Ma said. “She's a doctor.”

“Alright. Two against one. I see how it is. I'd argue anyway, except I think I'm getting the better end of this deal.”

“I disagree. I think-”

“Maura.”

“Yes?”

“We're wasting valuable snuggling time.”

Maura threw her head back and laughed. The sound was musical. Another reminder that I was completely, totally besotted. She started backing towards the couch, dragging me along with her, and the smile on her face made me seriously consider taking the rest of my life off work to spend it like this.

Then someone knocked on the fucking door. Maura started to turn around, but I stopped her.

“Where are you going?”

“To get the door.”

I shook my head. “Mmm Mmm. Valuable snuggling time.”

“It could be important.”

“Not more important that our date with the couch.”

“Janie, let her answer the door.”

I turned to glare at Ma. “Really? I thought you were on my side here.”

While I was yelling at Ma, who had made an annoying amount of progress on breakfast, Maura managed to slip out of my arms and walk over to the door. I turned back around, just in time to see her open it.

“Is my daughter here?” Pop asked. The happiness I'd felt a moment before seemed to vanish. In its place, there was nothing but a knot of pain, like someone had punched me in the stomach.

Maura turned to look at me, silently asking me if I wanted to see him, but Pop stepped past her before she answered him, taking the choice away from me.

“Hey, Janie.” Just like that? He was gonna act like nothing had happened?

“What are you doing here, Pop?” I knew I shouldn't get angry, but I couldn't believe his nerve, coming to Maura's house.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

Maura closed the door and slipped around Pop, heading towards me.

“Oh, now you wanna talk?”

“Yeah.”

I was getting angrier by the second. I'd been so happy, everything had been going so well. I just wanted my perfect day back, and he was going to ruin it. I knew it. “Yeah, well, I wanted to talk Thursday night, and you didn't have anything to say to me.” I felt Maura's hand settle into the small of my back, and it felt like being thrown a lifeline. Maura was there. Maura, Ma, and if I needed them, Frankie, Tommy, Korsak and Frost would be there too.

“What, you think you can just spring something like this on someone and not expect them to get upset? How am I supposed to feel?”

“Spring it on you? Jesus Christ, Pop. I'm thirty-nine years old. How is telling you I'm gay ever not gonna be springing it on you? Oh, I know, I should have waited until I was forty and sent out invitations to my big fat gay birthday party!”

“Janie-”

“You wanna know how you're supposed to feel? You're supposed to feel like I'm your daughter, and you love me.”

“Of course I love you, but I don't understand how you could do this to me and your mother.”

Of all the stupid things Pop could have said, that was probably the worst. Ma just about exploded. “Frank Rizzoli, don't you dare pretend that I'm as small minded, as hateful, as-”

“Ma,” I shouted, and for once, my Ma stopped yelling and looked at me. “I got this.” She nodded, and I turned back to Pop. “You wanna know what Ma said when I told her? She hugged me, said she loved me, and that she was proud of me. Frankie? His biggest concern was that I'd beat him to Maura's assistant Susie.” Maura made the cutest little 'Hmph' sound at hearing that. “Tommy couldn't stop apologizing for missing dinner and for having tried to kiss Maura once, and Korsak and Frost were more concerned about what Korsak was gonna order for lunch. But you know what all of them had in common, Pop? They all just want me to be happy.”

“That's all I want for you, honey.”

“Then you should be happy about this.”

“Is this because I left your mother? You think because our marriage didn't work, you won't be able to find a guy who will stay with you?”

I stared at him for a moment, wondering how he could think that. Had I not been clear. I shook my head, and slipped my arm around Maura. “Pop, I don't want a guy. All I want is Maura. She's all I've wanted for a long time. It just took me a while to get up the balls to admit it. But now, I've got her, and I'm happy. Why can't you understand that?”

I could see the emotions playing across his face. Anger, confusion, frustration. I wasn't getting through to him, and it hurt. Pop had always been the one I could talk to, and I wanted him back, but the man in front of me wasn't the man I thought I knew.

He turned toward Maura and took a step towards her. “What the hell did you do to my daughter?”

I let go of Maura and got between them, then planted my hand on Pop's chest and shoved him back a good three steps. “Don't you dare talk to her that way.” I shoved him again, back towards the door. “Don't you dare come into her house and speak to her like that.” Another shove. “You want to blame someone, blame me for not being willing to give up what I want to make you happy.”

“Janie, please. What did we do wrong?”

I sighed and shook my head. “You need to go.”

“Where am I supposed to go? Lydia kicked me out. Said she wasn't going to marry someone who wouldn't love their kids no matter what.”

“That's why you came here?”

“I tried going to your place. I sat outside your door half the night, waiting for you to get home. Tommy wouldn't let me stay at his place either. Said I could come back when I apologized to you.”

“Well, for once Tommy has the right idea. You can come back when you're ready to accept that I'm gay, and that I'm with Maura.”

“You're gonna pick her over me? I'm your blood, Janie.”

“Yeah, but Maura's my family. Something you walked out on.”

“I thought I raised you better than this.”

“And I thought you were a good man. Looks like we were both wrong.”

He didn't say another word. He just turned and walked out. Again.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned around. Maura was looking up at me, and I could see the worry in her eyes. I understood it, after what happened before, but this time, I was more angry than hurt. He hadn't come because he wanted to make things right between us. He'd come because he had nowhere else to go. Because it was the price of getting back in with the people he still gave a damn about. Never mind what it did to me, or to Maura, or Ma.

I took Maura in my arms, hugging her tightly. “I'm sorry, Maur.”

“What for?” she asked.

“I'm sorry he spoiled our morning, that he talked to you that way.”

I looked up as saw Ma standing behind the counter, tears in her eyes. I held out my hand to her, and she came around the counter and walked over, hugging us both, and then patting us on the back.

“You still want those pancakes?”

I nodded.

“You two sit down. I'll have breakfast ready in a few minutes.”

I led Maura over to the couch and sat down, pulling her into my lap and holding her tight while Ma fixed breakfast. Slowly, the familiar banging of bowls, spoons, hand mixers and Jo Friday begging Ma for food and the feel of Maura's hands stroking my hair eased the tension and soothed away the anger.

I had this. I had a wonderful, beautiful brilliant girlfriend who took care of me, and two brothers who loved me and did what they could to protect me, and partners who respected and cared for me, a dog who was always happy to see me, a tortoise who... made my girlfriend happy, and a mother who made me bunny pancakes when I was upset.

I had a family. Pop might chose not to be a part of my life, and that would always hurt, but I had a family, and it was enough.

For the first time in a long time, I was really, truly happy.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a joke in here that probably won't make sense if you don't follow the Jane and Maura twitter feeds, but it was too good to pass up.

**Maura**

I glanced over at the clock and let out a small sigh. The last two days, with the momentary exception of Frank Rizzoli's visit, had been nothing short of wonderful, but in less than an hour, the alarm would go off, and our little break from the world would be over, and we would have to leave the peaceful shelter of our bed, and go back to work.

It should have seemed strange. I'd never been particularly fond of my various lovers staying the night. With most, I hadn't allowed it. With some, I'd felt obligated to tolerate it. With a couple, I hadn't minded, but even then, I'd never been comfortable with what I thought of as the invasion of my personal space. But that Monday morning as I lay in Jane's arms, her body spooned against my back, I knew I never wanted to spend another night without her next to me, or wake up without her arms around me.

Despite all the times I've chastised Jane, patience had never really been one of my virtues. I was good about faking it, because very often, I enjoyed getting as much, or more, than having. Take my espresso machine for example. It took time to make each cup, but it was time I enjoyed spending.

Where Jane was concerned, however, any pretense at patience was threadbare, at best. We'd been together two days, and it was all I could do to restrain myself from asking her to move in with me. I kept having to repeat 'too much, too soon, too fast' to myself. I wanted forever, not to scare her off.

Part of me said I wasn't giving her enough credit, that I shouldn't make the mistake of underestimating her bravery again. I wanted to listen to that part of me. It was seductive, promising everything and promising it now. But I couldn't be sure it wasn't the greedy, impatient part of me.

I moaned softly as I felt Jane's teeth nip at my neck. Her arms tightened around me, and her right hand slipped up to cup my breast.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“How do you know I'm thinking anything?”

She chuckled as she nipped at my earlobe. “I can hear the hamster wheels rattling,” she said.

I should have been offended, but the feel of her tongue sliding along the skin above my left carotid artery was sufficiently distracting to prevent any retort aside from another moan. Her left hand slid down, finding the hem of the silk slip I'd worn to bed and sliding under it. I shifted slightly, then lifted my left leg, hooking it over hers to give her better access as she ran her fingers over the edges of my labia.

“God,” she whispered, “you're already wet.”

All I could do was nod in reply as my right hand twisted the sheets, and my left gripped the silk fabric of the negligee I'd bought her. I bit down on my lower lip as she slipped her fingers inside. Whimpered as she pinched my nipple and twisted it, the shock of sensation making me nearly crawl out of my skin.

“There,” I moaned as her thumb found a spot I knew I should know the name of, but the feel of her teeth tugging on my earlobe was so distracting, and I was drowning in the smell of lavender and sex.

I closed my eyes as the world melted away, until all that was left was Jane. Jane inside me, Jane stroking me, Jane's warm, soft body pressed against my back, Jane's teeth on my ear and throat, Jane's sent everywhere. She was like a tide rolling in, wave after wave washing over me, caressing every inch of me, until finally, I broke, panting and screaming her name.

When I came back to myself, her arms were both wrapped around me again, holding me so tightly, it was as if she was afraid I might vanish if she let go. I squirmed a little, and she loosed her hold enough that I could turn around in her arms and face her.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too.” I studied her face for a moment, because she was beautiful, because I loved her, and because I could tell something was wrong. She wanted to ask me something, but she was afraid too.

“What is it, love?” The endearment slid off my tongue so easily, I didn't even realize I'd said it until I saw the way her face lit up. She leaned forward and kissed be, and morning breath be damned, I loved it.

After the kiss was over, she looked at me, and I could see the hesitation, the fear in her face, but my Jane, my brave, beautiful Jane, just took a deep breath, and asked anyway.

“You know I'm out at work now, right?”

I nodded. She'd spent nearly half an hour Saturday regaling me with the story of her indignation at Korsak and Frost's lack of reaction to her announcement.

She looked at me for a moment, and I knew she was gauging my reaction to her question. “Maura, I'm not just talking about Korsak and Frost. I'm not gonna take out an announcement in the news letter or anything, but...” She lowered her gaze, and her face flushed. “Okay, not the best place to look when I need to concentrate.”

For a moment, I was confused, then I followed her gaze down, and realized just how low cut my slip was. I laughed, and when I looked up, Jane was grinning and chuckling too. I leaned forward, kissing her again.

“I'm not ashamed of you, Jane. In fact, I think I might take out an add in the newsletter, just so the rest of the force knows you're off the market.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “Getting a little possessive there?”

“I blame my upbringing. All that solitude. I never really learned to share.”

Jane kissed me on the forehead. “Believe me. You've got nothing to worry about.”

“Not even Kris from traffic? I know people in your family have a bit of a weakness for her.”

Jane snorted. “Please. Have you seen the woman's shoes?”

“She wears the same brand as you.”

“No she doesn't. I switched to Jimmy Choos, remember? I would have done it sooner if you'd told me he made such comfortable boots.”

I laughed and glanced over at the clock. Half an hour until we had to get up. I reached up and none too gently pushed Jane over on her back, then climbed on top of her, straddling her.

“I think we should take turns,” I told her, firmly.

“Turns at what?”

I pulled the negligee up with my left hand as I slipped my right hand down between us, running my finger through soft black curls, still damp from earlier. Jane gasped at my touch, and I smiled down at her.

“Being the guy.”

We ended up being late to work that morning, but try as I might, I couldn't bring myself to care. I had Jane, and for the first time since I could remember, maybe the first time in my life, I had the promise of a future in which I wasn't simply content, but truly happy.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited this story. I was horribly nervous about posting it, but you guys have been fantastic, and I'm really glad you all enjoyed it.


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